Roswell: Reimagined
by Horatio Jaxx
Summary: Three teenagers, who are secretly coping with the realization that they are different from everyone else, must adjust to a gradual awakening of passions and suppressed identities.
1. Chapter 1 The New Assignment

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 1: The New Assignment

On the 22nd of July in the year 2010, First Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki, of the United States Air Force, was an eager and happy person. His eagerness was due to his new job in the Investigative Analysis Unit of the United States Air Force's Defense Intelligence Agency. He had spent the whole of his seven years as an Officer in the Air Force being bounced from one staff position to the next, five counting this new one. All of them were, by his estimation, a waste of his intellect. This was not vanity. Lieutenant Kawecki was, by nature, a humble and considerate person. However, in his thoughts, he believed himself to be far above the average within the Air Force's pool of Lieutenants. He knew himself to have a genius level IQ and this knowledge was continually being reinforced by the level of his work by comparison to that of his co-workers.

Ryan had hopes that this new job would put him in the company of minds equivalent to his own. After all, he would be working in Washington DC. He expected nothing less than the best that the United States military had to offer to be working here. He felt it was only right that he should be among them. After all, he did graduate from the Air Force Academy seventh in his class. After submitting nine transfer requests for this posting, his request was granted. In his mind, Ryan entertained thoughts that the powers that be had finally come to recognize his true value. He suspected this was nothing more than wishful thinking; nonetheless he was pleased with the fantasy. Being someone picked to work in the Defense Intelligence Analysis Center in Washington DC made him feel like a member of an elite community of people. A secondary reason for his good humor was the fact that he was finally able to house himself and his family in a dwelling that was not built, owned and maintained by the military.

Rugged living was something that Ryan had no predilection for, which was why he applied to the Air Force Academy. He saw the military as a means of elevating himself and, for him; the Air Force was the least disagreeable of the five branches of same. His circumstance, as the only child of an unwed mother who died when he was twelve years of age, did not afford him many options for attending college. He spent the remainder of his adolescence in foster care. He had a grandmother who had neither the means nor the inclination to take him in. His father and grandfather were in the wind and were never an option for consideration. His passage through three foster homes and three separate schools hindered him scholastically, but only enough to drop him from an A to a B+ GPA. Academically bright and studious by nature, Ryan entered the Air Force right out of high school. His plan was to never look back on his childhood. Building his future held all of his focus.

The twenty-nine year old First Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki was not a striking figure of a man. He was not unattractive. He maintained a full head of hair and only sported sunglasses when there was need for them. Standing five-feet ten-inches tall, he recently began to struggle with his weight. He was forever worried that others would notice his slightly rounding contour. This they did with far less regard than he. But it was his discipline and powers of concentration that others noticed far more. It was this aspect of his character that most attracted Julie Maddux to him. His determination to excel and his soft spoken manner endeared him to her right away. She immediately set off on a campaign to marry him, a fact he is unaware of to this day. They produced a son a year into their marriage and then a daughter, a year and half later. The Kaweckis were happy and Mr. and Mrs. Kawecki felt to be comfortably situated for the first time in their marriage.

Ryan had no trouble negotiating his way to his new office. The floor plans of the Defense Intelligence Analysis Center and the setup of its surrounding infrastructure was well fixed in his mind. He had his designs on this posting since before he joined the Air Force. He deftly navigated his way through the parking structure, into the building and past the security with the ease of a seasoned employee. In just under fifteen minutes he traversed from his car to the front of his new commanding officer's desk, two steps back.

"First Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki reporting for duty, Sir..."

Major Joshua Berg was a forty-seven year old, tall, six-foot-one, thin, man with an erect bearing. Despite his height, there was no look of athleticism in his appearance. His physique leaned towards the gaunt. His hair had a salt and pepper graying appearance and his hairline was receding in the front. He maintained a stern expression behind black, plastic rimmed, narrow glasses. Glancing up from the paper he was reading, he gave Ryan a quick look and a nonchalant salute before returning his attention to the paper.

"Yes, you were expected," Major Berg replied without looking up. "Find an empty desk out there and someone will get to you shortly with something for you to do."

This was a less than impressive beginning by Ryan's expectations. This was Defense Intelligence Analysis. He expected an orientation and a security briefing. He was not expecting a casual glance and a prompt dismissal from a middle-aged librarian. Confused by this casual meeting, he hesitated for a couple of seconds to sort through his disbelief. He then turned about and left the office, seemingly without the notice of Major Joshua Berg.

Ryan wandered out of the partially glass encased office cubicle and into the large office space outside of it. More than thirty desks filled the interior of this large office area. A less than impressive computer was situated atop each of them. The room was continuously filling up with Air Force personnel. One by one they quietly entered the work area and navigated to their desks with unenthusiastic and methodic movements. Rarely was a word said between them beyond hello. Ryan made his way to a desk near the center of the room that looked to be devoid of occupancy. He quickly examined the contents of the drawers and found nothing in them other than the key to lock them. Convinced that he had found his new work desk, he began depositing the meager contents of his satchel in and on the desk.

"Hi, you must be new," First Lieutenant Robert Wade pleasantly spoke. "My name is Robert Wade. Rob will do."

Ryan took note of his moderately handsome neighbor to his right and stepped towards his extended hand with a smile.

"Ryan Kawecki…Ryan will do just fine."

Both men shook hands congenially. After their two second handshake, Ryan turned his attention back to his desk.

"So, are you unimpressed yet?" Rob questioned with a grin.

"Unimpressed?" Ryan questioned with a confused expression. "What do you mean?"

"Most newcomers come here with grand visions of analyzing top secret data, situation rooms and real time satellite hook ups with operatives in the field."

Ryan knew that he had fallen into this category, but not to the extent that Rob was suggesting. He gave him a smile that bordered on a laugh before confessing his gullibility.

"Well, I admit I was expecting more than a fifty year old metal desk and a computer nearly as old on top of it."

"Don't worry about it," Rob retorted with a grin. "You're going through everybody's first day."

Ryan's enthusiasm rose a bit with this remark. He read into Rob's remark that there was something interesting to come in the future. "So, it does get better?"

"No," Rob quickly countered with a drab inflection. "But this is everybody's first day."

Ryan's hope for something challenging to fill his time here was suddenly dashed with this response. His curiosity about the work that they did here had suddenly piqued beyond his patience to wait on. "What do we do here?"

"We research, investigate and then write reports," Rob explained as he situated himself in his chair.

Ryan found this answer totally insufficient and quickly challenged him for a better one. "Reports about what…?"

"That my friend is a question you never want to ask," Rob softly explained. "And more importantly, it's one that you never want to answer."

Ryan took from this that there was some secrecy to this work. And he was happy to hear it. This take was made true when an Airman came along with his first assignment. Before releasing the packet to him, he was required to acknowledge with his signature that he received it and that he understood that he was never to divulge its contents to anyone without the direction of his immediate superior. This, he was later told, was his orientation.

"Joshua doesn't believe in formalities when it comes to this job. And in his defense, it is a very simple job."

Second Lieutenant Sara Forester gave this explanation on their lunch break.

"Does the content of these packets ever get interesting?" Ryan questioned with some hesitation.

Sara and Rob looked at one-another with a shrug before the later gave this response. "Not that I've seen."

Sara reinforced this answer with an affirmative nod of her head. "Hey, if you wanted excitement, then you should have stayed on an air base. At least then you would get to see something going on every now and then. Here all you're going to get is an endless supply of boring subjects that need to be condensed down into legible reports."

"And don't even think about advancement," Rob tossed in. "If you wait it out, you can get Joshua's job. But that's about it."

"Don't get us wrong," Sara quickly added on. "It's a good place to work if you have family like I do. It's a comfortable job, all things considered. But if you have any Air Force ambitions, this is not the place to be."

From this moment on, Ryan entertained serious thoughts about his future plans in the Air Force. He had no desire to uproot his family so soon after situating them in such a comfortable location. However, he had great reservations about giving too many years of his life to the posting he found himself in. After two weeks of working in Defense Investigative Analysis, he broached the subject of transferring out with his wife.

This was not a subject that Julie was keen on hearing. Her new home was comfortable and her children were happily situated here. Just the same, she felt obliged to be sympathetic to her husband's displeasure with his job. She listened to his concerns and his rational for submitting his first transfer request as soon as he could.

Julie understood the mechanics of transferring to a new post. After living through Ryan's numerous attempts to get this posting, she knew that the quickest way out was by being none too particular about where he was going to. She surmised from Ryan's thinking that this was precisely the way he felt. She, however, did not share her husband's desperation to be rid of his job. And she quickly rationalized an argument to save her home for another year or two.

"I know you want advancement and to put in your twenty years, but don't you think you should wait at least a year before putting in a request for transfer. I mean, who's going to take you seriously if you start petitioning for a new post after only two weeks."

Ryan did not care how it looked. But he did care about his wife and family. He read out of this response a desire to stay where they were for at least a full year. This was, after all, what he was really after, a sense of how she felt on the subject. Convinced that his wife desperately wanted to stay, Ryan resigned himself to stick it out for a minimum of two years.

"Okay, let's give it two years and see what happens."

On his next return to work, Ryan was given his fifth packet to be assimilated, researched and explained. He promptly opened it and began examining the contents. Within a minute of reading what was there, he became infuriated with himself for promising to stick it out for two years. Inside he found a collection of records, applications, appraisals and a collection of incidental documents on one Lieutenant Jill Hytner. The fact that he was given a person to write a report on was of no surprise to him. He had done this twice before. What made this packet so unusual was the lowly status of the individual. He could not fathom why the Air Force wanted a report on a former Air Force Lieutenant.

After scanning through the whole of the packet, Ryan could see nothing in this person's life that was worthy of the attention of the Defense Intelligence Agency of the United States Air Force. What made this exercise the most ludicrous to him, was the fact that Lieutenant Hytner had passed away of old age in the year 2007. He saw nothing in her Air Force record that suggested that she performed any special duties while in the service. In fact, from what he could see from her records, she was never anything more than a nurse. Given the DIA's interest in her life, Ryan quickly became skeptical that this was the whole extent of her duties while she was in the military. He decided to research her history in the Air Force starting with her last posting first, the Roswell Army Airfield in 1947.


	2. Chapter 2 The New Junior Class

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 2: The New Junior Class

"Mom, no pickles…!"

Isabel Evan's rebuke caught her mother, Diane, by surprise. She quickly looked down at the plate in front of her daughter with an expression of shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear. I forgot. I'll eat that one and you can have mine."

Diane quickly retrieved the plate in front of Isabel and set it down on the table where she would be sitting.

"Uh oh," Phillip Evans announced with a grin. "Somebody is in trouble."

"It's not a federal offense," Diane mockingly scolded at her husband, Phillip. "Just hurry up and give me another cheeseburger before she starves to death."

Phillip laughed at this as he scooped a newly cooked patty of beef and cheese off the barbecue grill.

"You know I don't like pickles on my cheeseburger," Isabel continued to admonish with feigned anger. "How hard is that to remember? I mean really, how many children do you have?"

"How can you not like pickles when your brother loves them so?" Diane challenged with incredulity.

"That's easy," Isabel quickly retorted back with a taunting look at her brother sitting across from her. "Max doesn't taste anything. He just swallows his food whole."

Max Evans showed no sign that he took any offense to Isabel's remark. He calmly washed down his last bite of food with some lemonade. He then turned his head towards Diane before commenting on the subject.

"You know, Mom," Max casually called out. "You should make Isabel cook for herself. That way we wouldn't have to endure these bi-weekly food rants."

Phillip and Diane openly laughed at this. Isabel took immediate offense and threw Max a kick beneath the table.

"Ouch!" Max called out just as the table rattled from the exertion of the kick and the response.

"Okay, no kicking under the table," Diane reprimanded a second before placing Isabel's newly configured cheeseburger on the table before her.

Phillip removed his chef's apron and joined his family at the patio table. He and Diane sat down in chairs opposite each other. It was the 8th of August, 2010 and the Evans family was enjoying one of their favorite summer practices; a Sunday evening grilled patio dinner.

"You're both sixteen years old now," Diane continued to softly lecture. "You're going to be starting your junior year of high school tomorrow. It's time to start acting like adults."

"Are we talking about any adult in particular, Mom, or shall I just wing it."

Isabel tossed out this wisecrack with a derisive smile.

"Very funny," Diane huffed with a smile.

"Speaking of school and being adults," Phillip quickly intervened. "You need to start preparing yourselves for college."

"Your father is right," Diane quickly supported. "You both have …decent grades. But you're not even trying. I bet if you both put some effort into it you can be "A" students."

Both Max and Isabel felt a sudden need to back away from the conversation. They both felt a need to be less than spectacular in anything they did. But they did not want their parents to know this.

"I try," Isabel defended with a hint of melancholy.

"No you don't," Diane countered. "I never see either one of you study. It's as if you absorb it all through your pores."

"Your mother and I have been talking," Phillip continued after Diane. "We think that because you find school so easy you don't feel the need to study. And what's happened is you've become accepting of your "B" averages because it's a passing grade. But you need to think beyond just a passing grade. You need to excel. This is what the universities are going to be looking for."

"I know, Dad," Max responded dejectedly.

"We just want you both to be able to get into a good university," Diane urged in a tone heavily laced with sincerity, "and then to go on to have successful lives."

"We know, Mom," Isabel softly acknowledged with a somber expression.

"We'll try," Max added. "We promise."

Both Diane and Phillip were satisfied that they had gotten their message across. They moved on to a new topic they hoped would lighten the mood. Both Max and Isabel were both happy for this even though the damage had been done. Neither of them enjoyed lying to their parents and both of them knew they had done just that.

Max and Isabel were the adopted children of Phillip and Diane Evans. They came in to their lives and home at the age of two, twin siblings, or so they were told. Phillip and Diane never had a moment of regret about this. Their two charges were all that they could hope for them to be and more. Happy, playful, obedient and affectionate, Max and Isabel were adored by their parents and the feeling was mutual. What Phillip and Diane did not know was that Max and Isabel were guarding a secret that they feared for their parents to know.

At the age of six, Max and Isabel learned that they were not like other people, or at least no one that knew of at that time. They discovered that when they touched one-another, they could communicate through their thoughts. For them it felt like a natural ability, one they instinctively employed. The only thing they felt to be unusual about this was the fact that they could not feel the minds of anyone else when they touched them. Their parents, their neighbors and other children, all seemed to be devoid of a mind. From Max's and Isabel's perspectives everyone else was an alien species.

This opinion was never vocalized by Max and Isabel. Exceedingly bright for their age, the twin siblings had no trouble rationalizing the sensation that screamed at them to never divulge their ability. In obedience to this, Max and Isabel lived secret lives that not even their parents knew of. To hide this difference within them, they blended in with the other kids. Being exceptional was against the rules. Being part of the norm was the blueprint that they lived by. They thought they were alone in this until the age of seven. This is when their minds first brushed against the mind of Michael Guerin.

Max's and Isabel's mental auras had quadrupled in size between five and seven years of age. They could not be within a few feet of each other without feeling the presence of the other. Everyone else moved about them like miniature black holes in space. Their own minds radiated like miniature suns, minus the heat. When Michael Guerin came to within five feet of Max and Isabel, on the first day of school as second graders, all three jumped with a start. This shock quickly turned into excitement for finally meeting someone like themselves. A bond was quickly formed between them and the trio became fast friends.

This connection between, Max, Isabel and Michael did not seem out of the ordinary to adults. They were kids and kids formed friendships. The trio laughed and played like the other kids. The only difference was that they tended to be exclusive between themselves. This might have briefly caught the attention of a teacher or two, but it was never considered significant enough to apply any real concern to it. The activities between the three were in appearance no different from those of the other kids. The trio rarely communicated with their thoughts. The process of doing this was far too tedious for them to do on a regular basis. They could feel the presence of each other's minds, but they could not forcibly access the thoughts. To telepathically communicate with one-another they had to project a thought out for the other to read. Max, Isabel and Michael found it far simpler to just speak and so they did.

The trio shared the same compulsion to keep their unique abilities a secret. They guarded their talents zealously and bonded all the closer because of this shared predisposition. By the time the trio had reached their freshman year of high school, the strength of their minds had grown thirty times what it had been in second grade. They could feel the presence of each other's mind at fifty yards distance and they were discovering new talents that they had not before considered.

For Max, Isabel and Michael, the seemingly vacant brains of the others were suddenly open books. Where the strength of their own minds shielded them from the intrusion the other, the absence of this strength in individuals not like them made their thoughts readable with just a modicum of concentration. They also discovered that they could lift objects, hand hold-able objects, twenty feet into the air with the power of their minds. These discoveries came on gradually and, subsequently, were no great shock to learn. What did send a shudder of astonishment through them was the next ability that they learned.

The discovery that they could push thoughts into the minds of others, who were not like them, sent a shock wave of trepidation through the trio. In their minds nothing validated their dissimilarity from everyone else like this did. It took no great leap of logic for Max, Isabel and Michael to conclude that they were the alien species. They had no knowledge regarding how this came about. But all three understood that their abilities were too comparable to be a coincidence. This analysis coupled with a repetitive dream that all three of them were experiencing continued to reinforce in their minds that they were linked by some abnormal means.

"You guys ready for another year of act dumb and smile?" Michael queried Max and Isabel in a tone laced with sarcasm.

Max had just parked the jeep that he and his father restored over the summer. Isabel was in the passenger seat. Michael crossed the school parking lot to deliver his query just as the two Evans were climbing out.

"Hi to you too, Michael," Isabel countered with equal sarcasm.

"Cheer up, Michael," Max quietly urged. "You have your own place now."

"I don't have my own place," Michael testily retorted. "I have an attic."

"It's not an attic," Isabel peevishly corrected. "It's a loft."

"Whatever," Michael countered a second behind.

The three of them were just about to make their way across the parking lot to the school when they were stopped by Kyle Valenti's 2007 Red Mustang GT convertible. He slowly drove by and parked his car a dozen spaces down and across the driveway from the jeep. Michael and Isabel were ready to continue toward the building as soon as he passed. But Max held fast to his stance and watched as Kyle parked. Isabel and Michael followed his example and his stare with far less interest.

"It looks like somebody's dad is proud," Isabel snidely commented.

"Yeah, well who cares?" Michael huffed back.

Both he and Isabel were ready to proceed on after their remarks, but Max held them in check with his continuous stare. Both of them balked and stepped back before returning their looks toward Kyle. Max's continued interest in Kyle Valenti had them both confused. It took only a second more for this confusion to go away.

"Oh no, not her, Max," Isabel complained dryly.

It took only a second, after Kyle had parked his car, for the passenger door to open and Liz Parker to step out of it. Liz Parker was unarguably one of the prettiest girls in the junior class and one of the prettiest at Roswell High. These were distinctions that Isabel shared. Another distinction they had in common was Max's devotion to them both.

"Come on, Max," Michael urged an instant after stepping in front of his stare. "We can't get involved with them."

"I know," Max insisted an instant behind. He then stepped around Michael and made his way inside the school with an obvious pretense that he was not jealous to his core.

Max, Isabel and Michael were leery of getting too close to anyone. Their phobic need to stay hidden from others made the idea of a romantic attachment a nightmarish scenario. They all suspected that this shared sense of terror had an unnatural origin. But neither of them had the power of reasoning to negate its control over the decisions that they made. For Max, Liz Parker was the closest challenge to just such an act.

Liz Parker was the daughter and only child of Jeff and Nancy Parker, the proprietors of the Crash-Down Café. Max's familiarity with Liz went all the way back to kindergarten. They had never had a close association. Most contact between them was generally something that was made in passing. Beginning in their middle school years, Liz developed a suspicion of his fondness for her. But this was something she gave no great import to. There were several boys that she knew that carried this affinity for her.

Because of his reserved behavior, Liz categorized Max as a shy boy. This in itself had no effect on her opinion of him. She thought him good looking and nice and in general far superior to most boys that she knew. What impeded her from having any designs on Max Evans was the fact that she only recently gave boys any thought whatsoever.

Liz Parker was an academic competitor with ambitious plans for her future. A straight "A" student, Liz seldom participated in the social conventions of her age. It was only through the urging of others around her that she came to entertain Kyle's advances.

"Liz, he's perfect for you," Maria De Luca ecstatically insisted. "You're a straight "A" student and destined to be our class valedictorian. He's an "A-" student, a quarterback on the football team, probably the next captain after this year and he's everybody's bet for Prom King this year and next. And oh, did I forget to mention that he's gorgeous. …You only go through high school once. If you want to be his queen, Liz, then you have to pin him down now, before someone else snatches him up."

Liz openly argued that she was not particularly interested in being anyone's queen. However, in the back of her mind she could not help but be amused by this prospect. Liz knew that she would soon be facing the prospect of having to acquire a date for the prom and she saw Kyle's pursuit of her as an easy solution to this task. She and Kyle began dating halfway through the summer and pleasantly so by her estimation.

Kyle was equally pleased by this association. Liz Parker was, by his estimation, the ideal girlfriend for his junior and senior years. She was at least as pretty as any girl in the school and academically superior to them all. Liz Parker was his equal when it came to personal aspiration and for Kyle this was of crowning significance.

Kyle was not particularly upwardly mobile in his makeup, but he was very competitive. For Kyle Valenti, high school was one long competition. He was not particularly interested in trouncing his competitors. But he was determined to make the most of his opportunities. His grades were an occasional struggle due to his interest in all sports. The only time he would push himself academically was when his test scores threatened to demote his overall grade into the "C's" or lower. His primary goal was his design on an academic scholarship. This was the prize that he sought outside of the admiration of his father, Sheriff Jim Valenti.


	3. Chapter 3 Do It Again

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 3: Do It Again

First Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki spent three days researching the life of Jill Hytner and composing it into a concise legible report. This was more than twice the length of time that he had spent compiling his other essays. He found the life of this lowly nurse to be a knot of contradictions and this, to his surprise, intrigued him. All of his past reports were about things that smacked of military secrecy. Ryan found the subject matter of these reports interesting, but he found the work associated with formulating a composition about them straightforward and banal. Everything he needed to put into the report was right there in the packet. Jill Hytner was a mystery that he could not make sense of and the challenge in this had him fascinated. Subsequently, he turned in his report on her two days past his allotted deadline, still unhappy about the enigmas in her life.

Jill Hytner puzzled Ryan for several reasons. In the pictures of her he saw an attractive woman with numerous prospects for her future. Personal anecdotes about her told him that she had more than her fair share of suitors. Tall, erect and slender with an attractive face, Ryan could not stop from falling in love with her himself. All of her records indicated that she was academically motivated and that she had ambitions of acquiring a Medical Degree after her tour in the Air Force. What Ryan could not find in the packet was an explanation for why she chose to abandon her home, her closes relations, her ambitions and a chance for a family of her own. This question haunted him for the three days he spent rummaging through the paper trail of her life.

Once this assignment was completed, Ryan went on to new projects and put the life of Jill Hytner behind him. After two weeks' time he had all but forgotten about the retired Air Force nurse whose life he had once summed up in seven pages. After completing his seventh report, post Jill Hytner, Ryan came to work with no thought of ever seeing or hearing anything regarding her again.

"Here," Major Berg asserted as he jutted a packet towards Ryan. "This is for you."

Major Berg was seated behind his desk. The paperwork lying on the desk held more of his attention than Ryan did.

"What's this?" Ryan questioned with a confused inflection as he took the packet.

Ryan had entered Major Berg's office half expecting to be commended for the speed at which he was completing his work. This was not a common practice of Major Berg and Ryan was not greatly ahead of the expected average of three packets per week. But Ryan was having a hard time imagining any other reason for the Major to summon him. The Major was not known for being sociable with the staff or even communicative. He, like everyone else there, saw this job as simple, dull and unimportant. Major Berg saw his function there as the person who delegates the packets to meet the various expertise of the staff and keeping everyone on pace. The only person that he regularly called into his office was his secretary.

"They sent it back," Major Berg advised with an absence of enthusiasm. "They want you to redo it."

Ryan quickly opened the large envelope and examined the title page. He had a suspicion that it might be his report on Jill Hytner. He knew this impression was being prompted by the fact that hers was the only report he did that was not airtight.

"What's wrong with it?" Ryan challenged more than questioned.

Major Berg sat back in his chair as he looked up at the Lieutenant facing him. He gave Ryan his full attention for the first time during this meeting. He was not put out by the question, nor was he surprised by it. His only thinking was that this was one of the few situations that warranted some effort of thought on his part. Reports were sent back to him in rare instances and they always came back with instructions. He knew that these instructions were included in the packet, but Major Berg felt obligated to answer any question he might have regarding same.

"You asked new questions but you provided no answers," Major Berg gruffly answered. "The people who read these reports don't like unanswered questions."

"Someone actually reads this?" Ryan questioned with an astonished tone.

It was Ryan's suspicion, along with everyone one else's in the unit, that these reports were simply filed away. No one thought that this information had any immediate application. Their primary reason for this thinking was the low level status of the unit. It was obvious to everyone that they were not part of any real time operations. All there saw themselves as a step above a librarian.

"I believe in most cases it's just filed away for future reference." Major Berg responded with a ponderous inflection. "But apparently somebody upstairs has an interest in this Lieutenant Hytner."

Ryan was encouraged by the signs that Major Berg was inclined to answer his questions. He quickly queried again to see what more he could learn about what happens to these reports.

"So, does this happen often, Sir," Ryan gently pried.

Ryan feared he was pushing his luck by asking multiple questions of his commanding officer. He halfway expected Major Berg to give him a stern rebuke ahead of an order to get out of his office. But to his surprise, Major Berg did not appear put-out by the question and promptly tendered an answer for it.

"It's rare," Major Berg explained in an off the hand manner. "However, periodically a report will come back with a request for more information."

Embolden by his response, Ryan decided to press for more information regarding the significance of this report.

"Sir, this report doesn't seem to be about anything of importance."

"Ours is not the reason why, Lieutenant," Major Berg responded with a hint of a smile. "Just find the answers and resubmit it."

"With respect, Sir, to get answers for these questions I would need to go into the field."

"That's why they're giving you a week to rewrite it and a travel allowance."

Ryan was shocked to hear the phrase travel allowance and he clearly conveyed this on his face.

"It's in the packet," Major Berg tossed out nonchalantly.

Major Berg was slightly surprised himself by this turn of events. He had seen this happen only once before. It was not uncommon for a rewrite to be accompanied with an additional allotment of time. But a travel allowance was something he had never seen before. Major Berg was keen to see the reaction on Ryan's face when he learned of this. To his surprise, it was not the look he was expecting.

"Couldn't we staff this out?" Ryan asked after a moment of shock.

Ryan had no desire to be away from his wife and children for any period of time. His chosen profession for himself was that of Intelligence Analyst. He felt perfectly skilled for the task and he wanted to do nothing more than that. Ryan's ambition was to rise to the rank of General and command his own Intelligence Analysis operation. What he never hoped or planned to do was work in the field.

"No, we can't," Major Berg sharply retorted. "This is Defense Intelligence, Lieutenant. We don't staff work out. We do it in house."

Joshua Berg was a little surprised by Ryan's response. He knew that any other member of his staff would be thrilled to get out of the office and into the field. He knew less about Ryan than he did of any other member of his staff. But this reaction, coupled with the precision of his work, gave him the impression that Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki was a fastidious little man who probably should not be in the Air Force at all.

Dejected by Major Berg's stern response, Ryan gave his commanding officer a somber, "yes Sir," and then turned about for the door.

"Next time, Lieutenant, keep it simple and don't leave any unanswered questions," Major Berg lectured on Ryan's way out of his office.

Ryan went home and explained to his wife that he would be out of town for a week. Julie was far more impressed by this event than he. She saw it as evidence that her husband was doing something of importance. He suspected she would feel differently if she knew that he was merely chronicling the life of a nurse. But this was information that he could not communicate. So, he allowed his wife to think the better of this trip and quietly concealed his annoyance for same.


	4. Chapter 4 Lunch for Two

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 4: Lunch for Two

Earl Wade had just deposited his trailer at the docking entrance of the Wal-Mart Supercenter in Roswell, New Mexico. Tired from his seven hour nonstop drive to get there on time, he detached the truck and parked it in a tractor trailer stop not far from the store. It was half past eleven in the morning and Earl was eager to catch up on the sleep that he lost from his early morning start. He was just about to insert his slender six-foot two-inch frame into the bunk-bed at the back of the cab when he noted something familiar about one of the other three trucks parked nearby. He settled back into his seat and took a minute to study it. The types of cross country tractor trailers in service around the country were surprisingly few. Over the past year Earl had seen more than one-hundred trucks of the same make, model and year as the one he was looking at. But the detailing and ornamentation of this truck was unique to only one person he knew.

Adrian Lupo awoke to the sound of someone banging on the door to his cab. A burly man with a rotund figure, Adrian pulled his six-foot frame out of the bunk-bed at the back of the cab and climbed into the driver's seat of his truck. When he looked out the window he did not at first recognize the slender, six-feet two-inch tall, man standing just outside. It took his eyes several seconds to adjust to the light and focus in on the face on the other side of the door. After a few blinks and a sudden start of recognition, Adrian opened the door and pushed it out wide.

"Earl, how's it going?"

"I'm okay. And how are things with you?" Earl responded as he stepped back so that Adrian could climb out of his truck.

"Well hell man, I'm doing great," Adrian answered in a boisterous tone a second after hitting the ground with a thud. "…Glad as hell to see you."

Adrian extended his hand. Earl promptly clasped it and shook hands with his old friend. The two men had not seen one-another for more than nine months. Before this, nearly seven months had passed between meetings. Their acquaintance with each other went back eleven years. But it was only in the past two years that their association had become sporadic.

The two men met when Earl began his six month trial period as a truck driver in Dallas, Texas. Adrian was the veteran driver that Earl was assigned to. During their time together they became good friends. This friendship extended beyond their time in the truck. The similarities in their likes, pastimes and lives made their association a comfortable fit. Both men had children, divorced and happily single again. Both men were, when they first met, in their later thirties. Their proximity to one-another made all of this a comfortable fit. It was not until Adrian followed his ex-wife's and children's move to Houston, Texas, four years earlier, that this close friendship became untenable. Fishing, football, baseball and bowling were the usual recreations on the agenda for their meetings, usually with other friends. The nature of their jobs and the distance between them limited these joint activities to once or twice a month. But it was not until Adrian borrowed five-hundred dollars from Earl that their association became almost nonexistent.

It was not until after the first three months had pasted that Earl became suspicious of Adrian's disappearance. The fact that they rarely saw each other was not particularly surprising under the circumstances. But Adrian's failure to answer or return any of his calls was unnatural to say the least. Earl's thinking immediately went to the five-hundred dollars. He was at first reluctant to believe that Adrian was ducking his calls. But this reluctance fell away after the first year.

Earl gave no great significance to the amount of money. When it came to small denominations, he was a very generous person. Five-hundred dollars was not an amount he considered to be a small denomination. But it was a quantity that he could spare to a friend as a loan. It was for this reason, coupled with his desire not to offend a friend that Earl strained his patience waiting for Adrian to pay him back. What he did not know and what Adrian was not telling him was that he was heavily in debt to half a dozen credit card companies. He had spent much of the past year borrowing from one credit card to pay to another. Confessing his financial mismanagement to others was something that Adrian was too proud to do. What he did not know was that Earl was too proud to endure a slight for long.

The two men began their accidental meeting with the pretense that all was well between them. After their friendly greeting and explanations for their presence in Roswell, Adrian invited his old friend to come with him for lunch. Earl accepted without hesitation. He was reluctant to take his leave of Adrian without first raising the subject of the debt. He had hopes that Adrian would do this himself. Earl was not by nature a confrontational man. But he was determined not to allow this fact to be the means of his humiliation.

Adrian drove them both to a restaurant on the other side of town. His familiarity with the community was due to his regular transit through the area. There were several businesses within New Mexico State that he favored making deliveries to. Over the course of many years he came to be familiar with the selection of restaurants to be found here. This particular restaurant that he was taking Earl to had the advantage of being inexpensive without being a fast-food franchise. Five minutes down the road, Adrian parked his rig in the parking lot of a shopping plaza. The two men climbed out of the cab without delay and made their way, half a block down the street, to a small café adorned with an ostentatious display of a flying saucer.

"Trust me, the food is good her," Adrian promised.

The two men pushed open the glass doors of the eatery and were immediately engulfed by the smells of food being cooked and served. The interior of the restaurant was not large. It looked as if it seated thirty people, more or less. Nearly all of the tables were taken, but there was several spots open at the counter. Adrian suggested that they take seats there, but Earl vetoed that in favor of a vacant table against the wall. The two men took seats there opposite each other. One minute after sitting down, a waitress, who looked to be no more than a teenager, came over and took their order. She quickly jotted down their requests and went off to deliver their selections to the cook. While they waited on their food, the two men chatted about mutual friends and changes that had occurred in their lives. Earl was hesitant to bring up the subject of the debt. He still had hopes that Adrian would do that on his own. Adrian was hoping that his friend's mild manner demeanor would continue to avoid any subject that was potentially confrontational. A dozen minutes into their small talk about nothing, their food was being served before them. The two men quickly set themselves to the task of eating their lunch with little being said between them as they did.

Twenty minutes later, the men had finished their meals with the exception of their drinks. The waitress had been given their payment and had just returned with the change. Earl's thinking quickly came to the conclusion that now was the time to broach the subject of the money that Adrian owed him. He knew from Adrian's earlier statement that he was leaving Roswell immediately after lunch.

"Hey man, I'm sorry for bring this up, but you still owe me the five-hundred you borrowed two years ago."

Earl was legitimately regretful for pressing Adrian on this subject. If he took the time to think about it, he could not rationalize why he felt so. Earl calculated that he had every right to put this question to his old friend.

"I know, I know, I haven't forgotten," Adrian responded with a toss of his hand.

It was Adrian's hope, and partially an expectation, that this would be enough of a response for now. He knew Earl to be a passive person and he was counting on this, along with the public setting that they were in, to persuade him to let this subject pass for now. To his surprise it had the opposite effect.

"So, when can I expect you to pay it back?" Earl softly challenged.

Earl saw the toss of Adrian's hand as a dismissal of his inquiry. He had fortified himself for months for this meeting and it took only the smallest indignation to ratchet up his assertiveness to the next level.

"Well I don't have it on me now," Adrian forcefully countered with a look of dismay.

The contention in his usually demure friend caught Adrian off guard. The agitation in his response stripped away Earl's last layer of civility.

"If I don't ask you now, then …when am I going to see you again? …two years from now?"

Adrian was instantly brought to anger by this remark. His absence of a credible reply and the feeling of being backed against a wall were doing the bulk of the work of fueling his temper.

"So you want a date? I thought we were friends?" Adrian loudly roared back.

Nearly everyone in the restaurant took note of their arguing with glances and stares.

"I thought we were too," Earl argued back. "But you haven't been returning my calls. I don't see you anymore. What am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to know that I'm good for it," Adrian retaliated with equal surliness.

Earl interpreted this as just another deflection. He had prepared himself over half a dozen months to get a straight answer from his old friend. This attempt at making his inquiry about his money the offending act was the affront to him that canceled out any thought that Adrian Lupo was his friend.

"Adrian, I want my money. I need you to cough it up. Borrow it off your rig, sell something, max out a credit card, I don't give a fuck. I want my money and I want it now."

Adrian leaned forward before responding to this remark. "Don't threaten me, Earl" he whispered in a sinister tone. "I don't like being pushed."

"I'm not threating. I'm just telling you, I want my money," Earl answered back in a hushed voice.

"You'll get your money when you get it," Adrian continued to argue under his breath. "Until then I don't want to hear from you and I don't want to see you."

Adrian stood up from his chair and started to turn for the front exit. Earl stood up an instant behind and caught Adrian by the left arm with his left hand. At this same moment, Earl inserted his right hand into his jacket pocket.

"You've made that pretty damn clear."

"Get your hands off of me," Adrian growled back with a scowl.

"Don't play the tough guy with, Adrian," Earl grumbled as he partially exposed a thirty-eight revolver from out of his pocket.

Adrian drew no fear from this. He saw the weapon as simply an escalation from heated words to an all-out fight.

"Why you son-of-a-bitch," Adrian roared as he grabbed Earl's right arm and pushed him backwards with his forearms.

Earl fell backwards onto the back of the patron sitting behind him. The whole restaurant was shocked into silence as they stared at the two men scuffling. Their shock quickly turned into alarm when all caught sight of the handgun that the two men were wrestling over.

"Gun…!"

No sooner had someone yelled this out loud did all of the patrons in the restaurant begin to move away from the two men. A few fled out the front entrance to the restaurant. Adrian and Earl had been wrestling for control of the weapon for barely more than a second when a shot rang out of its barrel. The sudden loud explosion shocked both patrons and staff to duck beneath the nearest table or counter. Adrian and Earl were also shocked by the sound of the weapon firing. They instantly halted their fighting as their minds suddenly fathomed what they both had done. A second after this, both men fled the restaurant. The dispute between them was no longer of importance. Their minds were in too much of a panic. Escape was the only thought that their brains could process. Both men scrambled out of the restaurant at their best speeds, oblivious to the fact that a waitress on the far side of the room had been struck by the projectile that they had launched.


	5. Chapter 5 A Rash Decision

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 5: A Rash Decision

"Not the Crash-Down, Max," Michael complained with overly emphasized dread.

"Don't start, Michael," Max gently retaliated a second after they scooted across the street, between traffic. "You know I like the Crash-Down."

"No you don't. You like Liz Parker," Michael corrected argumentatively.

"That's not why I come here," Max defended after stopping in front of the restaurant.

"Then why is it that the only time we come here is when Liz is working?" Michael challenged.

"It's Saturday, Michael," Max retorted in an exasperated tone. "Liz always works the weekends and the only time we have lunch together, outside of school, is on the weekends. Besides, the food is good here," Max finished with finality.

Max turned and started for the front door. Michael took a second to shake his head in disbelief and began following behind.

"The food sucks," Michael mumbled under his breath a second before walking through the front entrance.

These luncheons between Max and Michael were regular occurrences. They both spent much of their time together when they were outside of their homes. They often explored the wilderness surrounding Roswell, within a convenient distance. Michael, more so than Max and Isabel, was eager to find the rock formation that the three of them shared identical dreams about. The regularity of these outings put Max and Michael together during the lunch hour on most weekends. This was not entirely by happenstance. Both Max and Isabel would routinely find ways to incorporate Michael into their repasts. It was not uncommon for Michael to sup with them, at their home, during breakfast and/or lunch and/or dinner. From the perspective of Max and Isabel, Michael was as close to them as any brother could be. This bond was nurtured and reinforced by their telepathic connection. Given this kinship, in the minds of Max and Isabel, it was only natural for them to find ways to rescue Michael from the hardships of his own home.

"Here," Max quickly encouraged as he hurried over to a booth along the right wall that had just been vacated.

They both promptly sat down.

"Great, Liz's section," Michael sarcastically pointed out.

"It was open," Max quickly defended.

"Why don't we ever sit in that other girl's section?" Michael retaliated in a hushed tone.

"Who…? Maria…?" Max questioned with a surprised inflection. "I thought you didn't like her?"

"I don't," Michael emphatically insisted under his breath.

"Then what's your problem?" Max softly argued, with astonishment.

"Forget it," an exasperated Michael responded with a toss of his hands.

By this time, the busboy had just arrived and began cleaning the remains of the last occupants from the table. A minute later the table was clean. Thirty seconds after that, Liz Parker was standing at the end of their table.

"Hi, guys," Liz cheerfully greeted. "What can I get for you today?"

"Hi," Max responded softly and with a smile.

"Hi," Michael followed with a dismal inflection.

Liz paid no mind to Michael's somber persona. It was a common deportment of his and she was quite accustomed to it. Besides, she suspected that it was Max who brought him to the restaurant and it was he who chose to sit in her section. She was flattered by Max's semi regular visits. But she chose not to lead him on by paying notice to them. In her usual fashion, Liz quickly took their orders while avoiding direct eye contact and then set off with a smile to submit them to the cook.

"I see Max is back," Maria jokingly commented to Liz as they waited in front of the cook's counter.

"So?" Liz challenged with a grin.

"So flirt with him a little," Maria countered with a suggestive look.

"I can't do that," an astonished Liz blurted back in a hushed voice. "I'm dating Kyle."

"I'm not talking about a date," Maria playfully argued back. "Just kick the tires a little bit. Motivate him."

"I'm not doing that, Maria," Liz responded with a grin as she walked away with a tray full of food.

A minute later, Liz came back to the cook's counter where Maria was still waiting.

"Hey, give the guy a bone. He's been in love with you since the sixth grade," Maria pleaded with a grin.

"I'm not listening to you, Maria," Liz insisted with a wide smile and a look away.

"It's not like he isn't good looking," Maria continued to invoke under her breath. "Who knows? You might like him better than Kyle."

"I'm not listening to you," Liz continued to insist as she waited for another order to be completed.

Her hands then full, Maria set off to deliver her tray-load of food. This she quickly did. While doing this she took note of two more patrons who had just entered the restaurant and then seated themselves in her section. She promptly took their orders and then went to another table where one of its occupants had been signaling her.

"Bill?" The large, burly man, with the mustache and beard, requested with a word.

The other patron, a tall thin man, said nothing as she retrieved the bill for their combined meals and waited on the payment. Both men looked to be about fifty years of age, by Maria's estimation. Their attire suggested to her that they were laborers of some sort. And their manners, up to then, were neither pleasant nor disagreeable. They appeared to be just another pair of patrons that she would soon forget ever existed.

Maria placed the bill, along with the payment from the two men, on the counter behind the cash register. She then went to the cook's counter and placed the new order that she had just taken onto the cook's ticket wheel. No sooner had she done this did she hear loud talking coming from the table of the two men she had just left. Liz, and all of the other patrons, had taken notice of their sudden raised voices as well. Liz and Maria were not overly perturbed by this. They had seen patrons with loud disagreements in the restaurant before. Their initial concern was that they were making the other patrons feel ill at ease. The two quickly reduced their disagreement down to a hushed tone and the attentions of the other patrons fell away almost as quickly.

Relieved that all was well again, Maria turned her attention towards the cash register and the payment she had just received. After ringing up the bill and making change for the payment, she started on her way back to table of the two boisterous men. Liz was, at this time, standing by the soda fountain, preparing drinks for Max and Michael. It was at this moment that the muzzled debate between the two men erupted into physical violence.

Maria was startled into inaction at the sight of the two men scuffling. She stopped where she was at the instant that it started and stared at the two men in shock. It was not until she heard someone yell gun that she noted the revolver that the men were wrestling over. She backed away, terrified, as the weapon swayed back and forth in their struggle for its custody. Nearly everyone in the restaurant responded to the sight of the gun by either running or ducking. Liz was the only person present that was caught flat footed when the weapon discharged.

Liz's attention was on the drinks she was preparing when the sound of the fight caught her attention. The small kiosk where the soda fountain was housed prevented her from seeing who was fighting who. Because her hands were holding two large glasses of soda and ice, Liz hesitated long enough to set the drinks down. She heard someone yell, "Gun," an instant before stepping out into the open. For a second, it seemed to her as if all within the restaurant were in flight. It took her another second to distinguish the two men struggling from the other patrons. Just as she did this there was a loud bang and Liz suddenly found herself on the floor, looking up and in a daze.

Max was bent low in his seat, as was Michael, when the weapon discharged. He watched as the two men, shocked by what they had done, race out of the restaurant. He was still tracking their flight across the street when he heard Maria's yell.

"Liz!"

Max instantly turned about and looked in the direction where he had last seen Liz standing. With a sudden gasp of terror, he took in the sight of her lying still on the floor. Without hesitation he burst into motion towards her. An instant later, he felt something snag him by the arm. With a scowl on his face, Max jerked his attention behind him to see what was holding him back. He instantly came face to face with Michael staring back at him.

"What are you thinking, Max?"

"Let me go!" Max yelled as he wrenched his arm free.

A second later, Max was on his knees at Liz's side. He instantly noted the wound in her lower left abdomen. The blood that was pooling beside her seemed to be coming from beneath her body. Max suspected the bullet went through her and that she was bleeding out through the exit wound. Frantic to save her, Max quickly searched around him for something to stop the flow of blood that was quickly expanding into a pool on the floor.

"Get me some towels," Max barked over his shoulder at Maria after two seconds of searching.

Startled into motion, Maria raced behind the counter and procured a small stack of towels. She then raced back around the counter and stopped a foot away from Max and Liz. No sooner had she done this did Max reach up and grab the top towel. He quickly folded it into a small thick square. He then gently rolled Liz onto her right side and slid the towel directly beneath the exit wound. After laying Liz onto her back again, Max snatched a second towel out of Maria's hands and slowly pressed it against her wound with gradually increasing pressure. He noted her stir slightly from the act, but he suspected she was more unconscious than awake.

"Call for an ambulance," Max yelled behind him to anyone with the means to comply.

Maria quickly raced back around the counter and snatched up the receiver to the phone that was situated on the wall behind the cash register. Even as she was doing this, half a dozen patrons were already calling out to the Sheriff Department and paramedics. As this was happening, Max, in a state of agitation, lowered his head barely an inch away from Liz's face and squeezed his eyelids shut.

"What are you doing, Max?" Michael implored with an inflection of recognition.

Nearly in tears for fear of losing her, Max ignored Michael's query as he linked his mind with Liz.

"Max, you can't do that," Michael insisted at a whisper as he hovered above him, a foot behind.

Max continued to ignore Michael as he used his telepathy to blend his mind with Liz's. It took him only a few second to do this. The instant that he had merged with her mentally, Max set his mind to the task of instructing Liz's body to heal itself.

"Max, think about what you're doing," Michael insisted again at a whisper.

Onlookers began to push around Michael to see what was happening. Even Maria was diverted from her urgent call by the sight of Max bending over Liz.

"Stay back," Michael ordered with a sudden extension of his arms.

The onlookers were surprised by this and moved back a step. Oblivious to this and everything else going on around him, Max continued to steer his mind to the task of repairing the damaged area of Liz's body. This was something that he was not sure he could do, at least not to someone other than himself. He, Isabel and Michael had repaired numerous, minor injuries to themselves in the past. But they dared not try to do this to someone who was not like them. This was because they knew that the act of doing this involved linking their minds with this person and sharing with same their deepest and dearest secrets.

"What's happening? What's going on?" Jeff shouted as he raced into the restaurant dining area.

Jeff and Nancy Parker had been in their upstairs apartment when the gun was fired. They did not hear the fight at all and the gunshot was at first mistaken for a noise from outside. It was only after the busboy, Fernando, had come up the stairs and started banging on their apartment door did they think to go downstairs into the restaurant. Little more than a minute had passed when Jeff and Nancy raced into the dining hall and found their daughter bleeding on the floor. Max moved back just enough to give them access to either side of Liz. He kept his right hand firmly atop the towel that was applying pressure to her wound.

"What happened?" Nancy pleaded as she cupped Liz's face between her hands.

"She was shot, Mrs. Parker," Maria yelled from behind the cash register. "The paramedics are coming."

The sounds of sirens approaching could be heard a dozen seconds before Maria made that announcement. Distraught with fear, Jeff and Nancy paid little notice to either. Both parents directed their attentions to whispering words of assurance to their semiconscious daughter. One minute later half a dozen uniformed Sheriff Deputies poured into the restaurant. A minute behind them, the paramedics arrived. Ten minutes later, Liz, unconscious but stable, was wheeled out of the restaurant, loaded into a paramedic's vehicle and raced off to Roswell Regional Hospital. Jeff and Nancy Parker followed immediately behind in their vehicle. Max, Michael and Maria remained inside the Crash-Down Café, at the request of the Chaves County Sheriff Department.


	6. Chapter 6 Aftermath

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 6: Aftermath

As the Sheriff of Chaves County, New Mexico, Jim Valenti rarely went to the site of a crime that was in the initial stages of the investigation. His job required that he be in position to oversee the entire force. The day to day business of responding to criminal activity was the work of the uniform patrol officers and the detectives who were under his command. The shooting at the Crash-Down Café was a rare exception to this rule. His son, Kyle, was a regular patron of the Crash Down and his girlfriend, Liz Parker, was the reported victim of the shooting.

"What happened?" Jim questioned the first uniformed officer he came across inside the restaurant.

"Two men…, late forties…, early fifties…, they were dining over there. They got into a quarrel. One of them drew a gun on the other one. A single shot was fired and a waitress, Liz Parker, the daughter of the proprietor, was struck once in the abdomen, apparently by accident. She is alive, but in critical condition. The perps are in the wind."

The officer's deftly executed report was taken in with equal ease by Jim. He scanned the room as the officer spoke, searching through the collection of people sitting and standing about in the dining area. He took note of Detective Mullen and the waitress he was questioning. He noted Detective Romero questioning a couple of young men who looked to be teenagers. He scanned half a dozen more faces, but none of them possessed the one he was looking for.

"Okay, thanks," Jim acknowledge a second before stepping into the center of the room.

Jim Valenti knew his son was not in the Crash-Down at the time of the shooting. He called Kyle the instant he heard about it and verified that he was alright. He deliberately neglected telling his son about the shooting to keep him away. But he suspected Kyle would find out on his own and he wanted to check just in case. Satisfied that all was being taken care of as it should, Jim turned about and walked out to the front of the restaurant. As soon as he came to a stop on the sidewalk, he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

"Jim, Jim, will you tell this …officer to let me by?"

Jim turned to his left and spied Amy De Luca standing behind the yellow police tape and being restrained from circumventing it by a uniformed Deputy Sheriff. He had no idea what her business was there and this made him all the more curious. After a pause to ponder this, he walked over to the area where she was standing.

"Hi."

"My daughter is in there. I need to get inside," Amy insisted.

Jim had a passing awareness that Amy De Luca had a child. His association with her went back to their childhood. He gave little notice to her when they were children because she was five years younger than he. Late in her high school years and on into college his interest in her grew steadily. Slender and attractive, Amy De Luca was very much admired by him when he was in his mid-twenties. Unfortunately his position as a Sheriff Deputy caused him to have run-ins with her on several occasions and to even arrest her on one of them. This did not endear him to her at all. The thoughts that he entertained about asking her out were shortly dashed by her open contempt of him. Jim rationalized this as being all for the better and promptly moved on to a less radical dating choice.

"Who's your daughter?" Jim asked with a curious look.

"Maria, she works here," Amy quickly answered back. "I need to get in there."

"Is your daughter a waitress?" Jim asked back out of curiosity.

"Yes!" Amy answered in an exasperated tone. "Can I get in now?"

"I'm sorry, Amy," Jim sincerely apologized. "Right now the restaurant is a crime scene, so we have to limit the area to as few people as possible. But I saw your daughter. She's fine and I'm sure she'll be out shortly."

"My daughter is a teenager," Amy returned in an argumentative tone. "The Sheriff Department shouldn't be interrogating her without a parent present."

"The detectives are just trying to get as much information as possible about the incident while it's still fresh in everyone's mind." Jim couched his response with a flirtatious smile.

Amy De Luca was not amused by Jim Valenti's self-deprecating demeanor. Her memory of the Sheriff of Chaves County went back to when she was thirteen years old and very much infatuated with him from afar. Tall, straight, thin and muscular, the six-foot one-inch tall track star was her ideal of what a high school boy should look like. She spent the next three years of her life trying to win his attention, to no avail. She proved no match for the girls his own age, but in Amy's mind it was he who took the blame for this. She spent the next twenty years ignoring him and magnifying every perceived slight by him far beyond its true proportion.

"I've heard that before," Amy responded sarcastically.

Jim immediately picked up on the enmity in Amy's remark and concluded that he was still very much unpopular with her. In that same instance he decided to adjust his posture and act like the professional that he wanted the general populace to see.

"Ms. De Luca, there's been a shooting and my officers are working very hard to gather and process all the information they can about what happened here. I'm sure your daughter is in no trouble. We have a description of two suspects and your daughter doesn't fit either one of them. So if you'll please just give us a few minutes here, I'm sure your daughter will be right out."

Amy took no offense to Jim's practiced message. The word, shooting, brought her thoughts back to the seriousness of what had happened here and to her greatest worry.

"How's Liz?" Amy anxiously pleaded. "Is she going to be okay?"

Jim had no decisive answer for that question and feared giving the wrong impression. After a moment of thought he provided the only answer that he felt would satisfy this concern of his.

"I'm sorry, Amy, I don't know. They did manage to stabilize her and they took her to the hospital."

"Oh poor Liz," Amy nearly sobbed into her hands. "Maria must be terrified."

Amy's obvious concern for Liz, and for her daughter, encouraged Jim to do what he could to alleviate her distress.

"I'll see if I can hurry things along," Jim softly advised a second before turning back towards the Crash-Down entrance.

When he got back inside the Crash-Down, Jim saw that Detective Mullen was still questioning the waitress. He walked over to area where they were talking, six feet back and in Detective Mullen's field a view. He signaled the detective, with his hand, to come to him. Detective Mullen requested that Maria wait for a minute and then he moved to within whispering distance directly in front of the Sheriff.

"Who is she?" Jim questioned softy.

"Her name is Maria De Luca," Detective Mullen responded back in kind. "She was the waitress serving the suspects."

"Are you getting anything useful out of her?" Jim asked back.

"We'd be lucky if she could identify them in a line up," Detective Mullen responded with a heavy dose of humor and sarcasm.

Jim responded to the remark with a cold stare that Detective Mullen quickly picked up on.

"Her mother is waiting outside," Jim advised dryly a second behind. "Hurry it up."

"Yes Sir," Detective Mullen answered back with renewed professionalism.

Detective Mullen turned back to Maria without delay and gave her leave to exit the building. As he did this, Jim noted the blood on the hands and clothing of one of the young men that Detective Romero was questioning.

"Who's that?" Jim questioned Detective Mullen the instant he came back to him.

"His name is Max Evans," Detective Mullen answered after a glance in his notepad. "He attended to the victim before the paramedics arrived. They say he saved her life."

"Really," Jim remarked as he continued to stare. "And who's his friend?" He asked two seconds later.

"Michael Guerin," Detective Mullen responded after glancing in his notepad once again. "Both boys are students at Roswell High School and are in the same grade as the victim."

"Do they have any other connection with the shooting?" Jim questioned as he continued to examine the two young men.

"It doesn't appear so," Detective Mullen reported without looking in his pad. "They were sitting on the opposite side of the room."

"Okay," Jim acknowledged with a nod of his head.

Jim's first thought was that the gallantry of someone so young was outside of the norm and this made him suspicious. He had no idea where this suspicion would lead. It was his practice as an officer of the law to follow his intuitions and not steer them. In this case he saw nothing about the two boys to warrant any further study and turned his attention back to Detective Mullen.

"Find the shooters," Jim instructed with a stern stare. "This is personal."

"Yes Sir," Detective Mullen answered back with a nod.

Jim turned and left the dining area by way of the front entrance. Outside, on the sidewalk in front of the Crash-Down Café, Jim took notice that Amy and Maria were gone from the area. In their place he saw his son, Kyle, staring back at him. Jim immediately walked over to attend to his concerns.

"How is she, Dad?" Kyle questioned earnestly the instant Jim came within soft speech range.

"I don't know, Kyle," Jim responded with a nod of his head.

"Is she going to live?" Kyle rifled back an instant behind.

"She was alive when they took her to the hospital," Jim reported succinctly. "We just have to wait and see," he softly added an instant behind.

"You're telling me everything, aren't you, Dad?"

Jim knew that his son was inquiring if there were any physical disabilities inflicted by the injury. He considered this for a moment and then decided to ease his son's worry on that subject. He stepped a little closer before quietly doing this.

"The wound was a through and through in the lower left abdomen. She will likely not suffer physical handicap, if she survives."

Kyle had just taken in the last word of this when he noticed a bloody Max Evans walking out the front entrance of the Crash-Down. Michael Guerin was a step behind.

"Was Max inside when it happened?" Kyle questioned with a look of surprise.

"You know him?" Jim questioned with a look back over his shoulder.

"Yeah, he's in one of my classes," Kyle reported blandly. "And I think he's in one of Liz's classes too."

Jim watched Max and a Michael as they walked across the street. An attractive young lady, who looked to be no more than a teenager herself, was standing there by a jeep as if she was waiting for them. Her arms were crossed and she wore a stern expression on her faces. It looked to him that she was not at all pleased to see them. He continued to watch as Max and Michael walked directly to her and as all three climbed into the jeep. His suspicious nature flared up again at the sight of this. The behavior of the three seemed to him to be out of place with what had just occurred. He quickly filed it away under weird behavior and dismissed it as nothing of importance. As soon as they pulled out into the street he turned his attention back to his son.

"It may turn out to be a good thing that he was inside. The paramedics think that he may have saved Liz's life."

Kyle took this in with silence as he watched Max, Michael and Isabel disappear around a corner.


	7. Chapter 7 Accusations and Consequences

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 7: Accusations and Consequences

"My God, Max, what were you thinking?

Isabel cried out her question with desperate ferocity. The jeep, that Max was driving and that she and Michael were riding in, had just turned off the street where the Crash-Down Café was located. Max ignored her inquiry as he steered the jeep with a dazed expression. His mind was lost in thought. He too was shocked by what he had done.

"Max," Isabel yelled out for his attention. "Tell me what Michael has been saying isn't true."

Michael had been broadcasting telepathic reports to Isabel from the moment he felt her mind outside of the Crash-Down Café. He too was shocked by Max's actions inside the café. He expressed his disbelief along with the details of the event in a steady stream of telepathic messages from inside the Crash-Down. So distracted was he by these reports and Isabel's numerous telepathic inquiries that on several occasions he was taken off guard by a question from the detective that was interviewing him.

_I heard you. _Max responded telepathically. _I don't think we should be discussing this aloud._

"No, Max," Isabel responded angrily. "I'm not doing this mind whispering crap."

"Who's going to hear us?" Michael tossed out, almost simultaneously, with annoyed astonishment.

"I feel like yelling, Max," Isabel continued. "I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs. I'm not going to waste my time concentrating and focusing my thoughts into neat little telepathic packets."

The process of conversing telepathically took the spontaneity out of communicating. A significant amount of effort had to be directed into formulating and broadcasting a specific message. Vocalizing their thoughts was a far simpler way of communicating and it was the method they used for most situations.

"Talk to me, Max," Isabel yelled into his ear.

"I-I," Max fumbled with his thoughts and subsequently his words. "I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have left her alone," Michael roared in response.

"She would have died," Max hollered back without hesitation.

By this time the trio had reached the outskirts of the city. Max steered the vehicle to the side of the road and brought it to a stop. Ahead of them laid a wide open expanse of wilderness with only a minimal of markings of human development. Behind them, across the horizon, was the skyline of the city of Roswell. Frustrated by the combined assaults of Isabel and Michael, Max applied the brakes to the jeep and shut down the engine in a huff.

"I couldn't let her die," Max insisted in a voice laced with dread.

"So we get to die in her place," Isabel tossed out sarcastically and with a hint of empathy.

"You don't know that," Max defensively replied.

"Don't give me that, Max," Isabel retaliated against his response. "You're just as terrified as we are about what will happen when people find out about us."

"That's just it," Max reasoned. "It's an irrational fear that we all have. It's not natural. There's something artificial about it."

"Who cares where it came from," Michael retorted angrily. "We're not like everyone else. If they find out about us then they're going to lock us up. You know that, Max."

Max could not argue with this and held his head down dejectedly. He knew he had let Isabel and Michael down. The protection of their joint secret went beyond being a sacred oath. It was fused into their psyche and he knew that his affinity for a girl had caused him to overrule this.

"Look, I'm sorry," Max pleaded with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, great," Michael reacted. "You're sorry. That fixes everything."

"You linked with her, Max," Isabel continued a second behind in a tone intermixed with sympathy. "I can't believe you did that."

Max, Isabel and Michael had learned, nearly three years earlier, that they could merge their minds into a single consciousness. This discovery, more so than anything else they learned about themselves, solidified in their minds that they were not like anyone else on the planet. At the moment of this discovery, they learned that this act came with an uncomfortable side-effect. Unlike probing into the minds of people who were not like them, the merger of two or more brains into one collective mind gave each member full access to each-other's thoughts, fears and memories. It is for this reason that the trio elected never to do that again. They were not sure, until this day, that they could blend their minds with someone not like themselves. But they instinctively knew better than to try it for fear of divulging all that they are to the other person.

There was never any question in Michael's or Isabel's mind about why Max thought it necessary to link his mind with Liz's. The three of them had long known that they could encourage their bodies to effect repairs on itself at a rapid pace. This was second nature for them. Phillip and Diane Evans had quipped on past occasions that their children had the healing power of a salamander. Max, Isabel and Michael thought it highly unlikely that they could regrow a limb. But they had entertained the thought that they could reattach one. The severity of Liz's wound seemed minor by comparison to that. They all suspected that by joining their minds with someone other than themselves they could extend their control over their bodies to encompass them.

"She was mostly unconscious at the time," Max suggested more than argued. "She may have no memory of it at all."

"And what if she does?" Michael argued to the contrary. "What if she knows all about us?"

"I'll talk to her," Max countered. "Liz won't tell anyone."

"You don't know that, Max," Isabel retorted with incredulity.

"We have to leave," Michael shouted out.

"No," Max quickly, and sternly, countered. "We need to stay here, Michael. You know that."

"Well, Max, you just made that plan obsolete," Michael responded snidely.

The very suggestion of them leaving Roswell frightened Isabel into silence. She shared Max's and Michael's interest in whatever it was in the wilderness around Roswell that was whispering to them when they slept. But the thought that was giving her the most unease was the idea of abandoning her parents. Despite her agreement with the logic in Michael's position, she could not bring herself to vocalize this.

"We don't know that," Max argued back. "If we start running then there won't be any stopping. We need to stay calm and see what happens."

Michael did not care for this reasoning, but he did not have a ready answer for it. In his hesitation to respond, Isabel meekly tossed out her feelings on the debate.

"I think we should wait, Michael."

"Great, that's just great," Michael reacted in an exasperated tone of voice. "We just sit around and wait for them to come and get us."

Max saw no reason to respond to this. He knew that Michael had, in his own way, acquiesced to the majority. He started up the jeep, put it into gear and then turned it back around for the city. The three of them raced back toward Roswell and home in silence. Their emotions, their passions and their arguments had been spent. None of them could think of anything more to add to what they had already said.

Max was not convinced that anything he had said would come to pass. Liz Parker was an unknown quantity to him. He had spoken to her, played with her and sat next to her on numerous occasions in their pasts, but he never truly befriended her well enough to know her mind. From a distance all that he could see was an angel. His mind could not entertain that she would be anything less than that in reality.

Over the years, Max had avoided befriending Liz Parker. This he did out of fear of revealing too much about himself. The secret that he guarded always superseded all other considerations. This was a practice he had in common with Isabel and Michael. They all stayed clear of anyone they liked too much. It was for this reason that Max felt so much guilt over what he had done. He knew that his feelings for Liz went far beyond anything that Isabel or Michael had experienced with another person. It made him feel weak and a danger to the two people he desperately wanted to protect.

Initially Max had no idea how he would react if Liz began talking about what happened between her and him in the restaurant. And he had no plan for dealing with her if she confronted him about it. He was completely conflicted between his blind affection for her and his devotion to Isabel and Michael. It finally took his awareness of this inner struggle to force him to choose a course of action. Halfway home he began steeling himself to do something that he very much preferred not to do. If necessary, he would push Liz, into believing it was all just a hallucination.

Pushing a thought into someone's mind was something that Max had never done. He knew this could create conflicts and confusion within that person's thinking. Large and/or multiple pushes would make these conflicts a suspicious presence within their thinking. When this occurred, it took repetitive pushes to hide the telepathic footprints responsible for this. This was something that Max did not want for Liz. He knew how these repeated pushes caused psychological scarring. He had only to look at Michael's father to see the long term effects.


	8. Chapter 8 Michael Guerin

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 8: Michael Guerin

The jeep came to a stop in front of a white, wood framed single story house. The building looked to be of an old design. This was due to the fact that when it was first constructed the land around it was being farmed. The building was now surrounded by grass that looked to be unkempt for the most part. The neighboring houses on either side were greater than the width of a house away. There was no sidewalk other than the walkway from the street to the front door. Four full grown trees bathed the front of the house and the lawn in shadows. The neighborhood around it was mostly populated with newer looking homes.

Michael Guerin climbed out of the jeep and bid farewell to its remaining occupants, Max and Isabel Evans. They drove off the instant he turned away. Michael steered away from the front door of the house. Instead he moved towards the right side of the home and then up the gravel driveway that led to the rear of the building. He entered the house through the kitchen door. He went through the kitchen and into the hall. Once there he pulled an attic ladder down from the ceiling. The ladder led up to an attic space that had been converted into an apartment. Several months earlier, Michael convinced his adoptive father, with the help of a mental push, to convert it into an apartment for him.

Michael's relationship with his father had been contentious since he was the age of eight. Russell Guerin was prone to drinking heavily. While intoxicated he was not above physically abusing his adopted son to a small degree. A slap with the back of his hand was usually the extent of one of these acts. He was quick to anger while intoxicated and nearly as quick to regret his actions. As a preadolescent, Michael was eager to win the favor of the father who adopted him. When he came to understand how different he was from nearly everyone he knew, Michael began to long to be rid of his alcoholic guardian.

Russell Guerin was twenty-eight years old when he married Joanne Lerner, a neighborhood girl who was three years his junior. Their acquaintances with each other went back to their grammar school years. The age difference between them limited their association to strictly a distant familiarity. It was not until after Joanne had blossomed into a buxom teenager that he gave her any real notice. Unfortunately for Russell he was not the only single young male in the community who was admiring her. By the age of eighteen she was pregnant with her latest boyfriend's child. He was four years her senior. The relationship came to an end when the would-be father left town ahead of the birth.

Joanne Lerner turned to waitressing at the age of twenty to care for herself and her daughter, Vanessa. By the age of twenty-three she had been through two boyfriends and was living in a two bedroom apartment with her four year old daughter. Russell Guerin was the next man that she entered into a romantic relationship with. He had made advances in the past that she politely declined. There was always someone else nearby who held her preference. It was not until after Russell had opened his own auto repair shop that he had rose to the top of her list.

Russell was a very good mechanic and had been working steadily in this profession since his junior year of high school. It was always his ambition to open his own shop and he had been saving for that end from his very first paycheck. He purchased his home first, little more than a year out of high school, and then borrowed against it to start his own business. Less than two minutes into his relationship with Joanne, he invited her and her daughter into his home. Six months later they were married. At this point, life was nearly perfect for Russell Guerin. For Joanne Lerner-Guerin, this was an acceptable compromise.

By the age of thirty-three Russell Guerin had a profitable business, a home, an eight year old step-daughter and a wife he adored. There was only one thing missing that he needed to make his life complete and that was a son. It was only after learning that he could not father a child that Russell turned to adoption. This was not an unacceptable plan for Joanne. She had no desire to have another child of her own making and even less so one fathered by him. The compromise of this marriage had been steadily losing its appeal for her, so much so that she began having an affair with a man nine years her junior. She agreed to the adoption simply to please Russell, with the proviso that the child was not an infant.

Michael became a part of this family at two years of age. Two years later, Joanne Lerner-Guerin, with Vanessa in tow, ran off with her lover. Devastated by this, Russell turned to drink far in excess of his previous quantities of consumption. As a result of this practice, he neglected his business. His list of clienteles dwindled away and his profit margin nearly disappeared. It was only after taking on his top mechanic as a partner, three years later, was he able to save the garage. Despite this near loss of his only source of income, Russell continued to drink to excess. Not all of his drinking was due to events of his making.

At the age of twelve, Michael began to learn how to effect changes in his father's behavior. He accomplished this by gently probing into his mind and nudging his thinking away from thoughts that was emotionally depressing to him. These adjustments quickly became a pattern of confused thoughts and lapses in time. Even when he began to become suspicious of these sudden changes in his moods and plans, Russell would lose his mental grasp on these revelations until another two or three weeks had passed. At first he thought he was losing his sanity. After several years, of what seemed to him to be an endless delusion, Russell's suspicions latched on the one constant within this maze of inconsistencies. In the back of his mind he could not help but think that Michael was behind it somehow. But even in this he feared to think it and he was terrified of saying it aloud.

The relationship between Michael and Russell devolved into that of little better than resentful acquaintances living beneath the same roof. Russell fell into a pattern of quiet acceptance and Michael ignored him so long as he stuck to it. Over the summer of the year just past, Michael nudged Russell into accepting his claim to the attic space. These urges in Russell's mind had by then become a familiar precursor to one of these fugue events and he knew better than to question it or try to fight against it. There were times when Russell considered the idea that he had become schizophrenic. But during the calm between these episodes of delusional thinking he could not help but note how, at times, Michael seemed to be looking right through him.

There was no malice behind Michael's manipulation of Russell. Over time he became sympathetic towards his adoptive father. His familiarity with the thinking of his father lessened the perceived severity of his abuses in the past. He knew that it was the pain of loss and the alcohol that provoked him to do all that he did. But Michael was not one to forgive weakness of character and he blamed his father for this. It was for this reason more than anything else that made him long to be rid of him. The attic was his first step to total freedom.

Up until this day Michael's plan was to move out after graduation. He had no doubt that he could find work in some capacity somewhere within the vicinity. He had no desire to live or work beyond a three hour drive from Roswell. This was due to the fact that there was something in the wilderness outside of the city that was forever calling him to it. Because of this he had never given a thought to leaving this vicinity until this day. It was the thought of someone in possession of Max's memories that made leaving a serious consideration for him. However, this consideration notwithstanding, Michael knew he could never leave the state of New Mexico without Max and Isabel by his side.


	9. Chapter 9 The Evans

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 9: The Evans

Max Evans parked his jeep in the driveway in front his family's two car garage. The attached building was a single story three bedroom home made of brick. It was an attractive house of modern design. The lawn was well maintained and a single bushy Bur Oak tree shaded the front entrance. Max and Isabel climbed out of the jeep and walked straightaway to the front door at a hurried pace. They both suspected that their parents had heard about the incident at the Crash-Down Café and were waiting for their return.

"Where have you been?" Diane Evans excitedly questioned the instant Max stepped through the front door.

Phillip and Diane Evans had heard the jeep pull up into the driveway and they watched from the window as their two children climbed out of it. When they saw Max and Isabel approaching the front entrance to the house, they hurried into the foyer and arrived just as the door was opening. The sight of the blood on Max's clothing took them both by surprise. An instant after asking her question, Diane rushed towards Max and threw her arms around him.

"We took Michael home and then we couldn't leave until he and Max finished rehashing the whole thing."

Isabel delivered this explanation as she walked through the doorway.

"You alright, Son," Phillip questioned Max.

"I'm alright, Dad," Max responded while still clasped within his mother's embrace.

Phillip and Diane had gotten calls from several acquaintances forewarning them of Max's involvement in a shooting at the Crash-Down Café. They had thought to go down there, but a call to the Sheriff Department provided them with the information that Max was unharmed and would be released to go home within minutes. This was nearly an hour ago.

"What happened?" Diane questioned Max as she led him by the arm into the living-room.

"It was no big deal, Mom," Max minimized with a nod of his head.

"Well tell us about it. We want to know," Diane overruled in a pleading tone as she coaxed Max down onto the sofa.

As soon as Diane had taken a seat beside him, and Phillip had taken one opposite, Max began his recounting of the events that happened at the Crash-Down Café. He identified Liz as simply a waitress who got shot. And he described how he gave aid to her, minus the merging of their minds. Phillip and Diane were proud and happy for their son. He and Isabel had become far more than what they had hoped for when they adopted them.

Phillip Evans and Diane Kessler first met each other while attending Arizona State University. Less than a year after graduating from same, they married and moved to Tucson, Arizona where Phillip attended Law School. Diane found work there in her chosen profession, Business Administration. After obtaining his Law Degree, Phillip, with his wife in tow, moved to Roswell, New Mexico. This location was a compromise between Phillip's home town of Albuquerque, New Mexico and Diane's home town of Flagstaff, Arizona. The offer of a position in a respectable law firm helped this decision along. Once they were situated in their new home, the couple felt they were ready to start a family.

Diane became pregnant within their first year in Roswell. The pregnancy ended with a painful miscarriage. Immediately after her recovery, the doctor advised them that there was little hope of her ever carrying a pregnancy to term. After two additional miscarriages over the next four years, Diane and Phillip finally came to an acceptance that they would not have a child of their making. In that same moment, they began their search for a baby they could adopt.

Almost two years later, Phillip and Diane came across a little boy who was just over two years of age. It was the hope of the Evans to adopt a newborn or at least an infant. After two near misses at accomplishing this, they began to reconcile themselves to the prospect of adopting a toddler. This inclination was helped along by a very persuasive Director of the Holcomb Children's Home in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The final selling point that won the Evans over was the report that little Maxwell had a twin sister who went by the name of Isabel.

The Evans adopted both children and took them into their hearts as well as their home. Initially they were concerned with how eerily quiet and detached their two new charges were. For the first two weeks of the adoption, Max and Isabel never attempted to communicate and almost never cried. Phillip and Diane began to fear that they were manifesting the effects of some severe psychological trauma. Their fears began to relax when Max and Isabel began communicating in their third week with them.

Phillip's and Diane's fondness of Max and Isabel only grew from this time on and they never experienced a moment where they regretted the adoption. Their two young adoptees were bright and affectionate. With each passing week their bond to their children was reinforced by their happy acceptance of one-another. Phillip and Diane quickly came to a state where they could not imagine their lives without Max and Isabel.

Other than their strange silence in the first two weeks of the adoption, Phillip and Diane never noticed anything peculiar about Max and Isabel. They quickly grew accustomed to their above average intellects and their ability to quickly grasp anything they were told. After all, they had no other experiences with children to compare them against. What they saw in Max and Isabel quickly became the norm for them. There had been the odd occasions when they wondered if their adoptees were truly twins. Their variations in appearance, habits and tastes seemed so strikingly different at times that they could not help but ponder this question. However, they were never concerned enough about it to give it any great study. At times they entertained the idea that, due to their mutual birthdays, the children's home packaged them together to effect a dual adoption. But the possibility of this deception made no difference to Phillip and Diane. They were their children and that was all that mattered to them.

Max and Isabel had their doubts, too, that they were biologically related. They came to this thinking through objective analysis and gave no importance to it, as well. However, they chose never to speak of this to their parents. They suspected this was only the tip of the lie.

Max's and Isabel's first memories were of a woman. They could recall her face and an impression of her voice. But there was nothing beyond that they recalled of her. They had a vague memory of other children nearby, but the first people they remember interacting with were Phillip and Diane. However, were it not for these distant earlier memories they might have went on to believe that Phillip and Diane were their birth parents. With their above average intellects, Max and Isabel reasoned out that something was amiss about their earliest beginnings. At the age of eight, they questioned their parents if they had been adopted and they accepted the answer that they were as though it was a casual remark.

This inquisitiveness in Max and Isabel was helped along by the discovery that they could communicate with each other through their thoughts and listen in on thinking of others. They were not shocked by this discovery or by the fact that it was only they that could only do this. It was not until the start of puberty that they began to realize their predisposition to be guarded about this. When they questioned themselves why this condition was so naturally accepting, the answer that came back was, we are different from _them_. By this time Michael had become known to them and their cabal of secrecy grew to three.

In the beginning, Max and Isabel had no concerns about this difference between themselves and their adoptive parents. They loved them dearly and basked in their affection towards them. It was only after their powers of reasoning began to mature that they began to comprehend the enormity of this and to worry about what was behind it. Their concerns became anxieties and their anxieties became fears. Max and Isabel were completely accepting of their mutual difference. But they dreaded to think that this difference could lose them Mom and Dad.

The very thought of Phillip and Diane looking at them differently terrified Max and Isabel. This fear gave new intensity to their need to stay hidden. Concealing their telepathic ability was no longer sufficient for the task. They felt a need to blend into the community around them. Shortly into their puberty, they began to dumb down their intellects. Standing out or looking exceptional was something they dared not do. They began monitoring the minds of others for any thoughts about them being unusual and they even tweaked the thinking of individuals, here and there, along the way. But the one thing they never did, nor did they ever consider doing, was tamper with their parent's thoughts in any way, shape, or form.


	10. Chapter 10 Defying Gravity

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 10: Defying Gravity

Liz Parker spent the remainder of the afternoon in surgery. It was after nine o'clock in the evening when Dr. Keith Whitesell came out the doors to the operating rooms to report on the results of the surgery and the condition of his patient. Standing five-feet ten-inches tall, thin with mostly gray hair, Dr. Whitesell looked to be a competent surgeon. His stern expression and perpetually ruffled brow gave others the belief that he was forever analyzing events happening around him.

When Dr. Whitesell entered the waiting area, he found Jeff and Nancy sitting apart in silence. They both looked to be deep in thought or possibly even prayer. They both looked up at him when he appeared from around the corner to the hallway. Neither of them knew who he was or what function he performed in the hospital. Liz was already in surgery when they got to the waiting area. They could only stare at this person and wonder if he had any news about Liz. When he stopped twenty feet away and gave them a study as if he was searching for the words to express what he wanted to say, a sensation of panic clinched at both of their chests. With a sudden gasp of breath, they both pushed up onto their feet and hardened their stares at the man looking back at them.

"Are you the parents of Liz Parker?" Dr. Whitesell politely inquired while moving towards them.

Jeff and Nancy checked his approach by hurriedly walking up to him.

"Yes," Nancy responded in a pleading tone of voice.

"How is she?" Jeff blurted out at the exact same moment.

"She's stable," Dr. Whitesell quickly, but calmly, answered Jeff's question in the hope of easing their anxiety. "She's being moved to recovery," he softly concluded.

"Is she going to be alright, Doctor?" Nancy continued to plead.

Dr. Whitesell took a moment to ponder this question with a stern look into the space between them and a slightly confused nod of his head. After a couple of seconds of this, he looked up, inhaled and gave the answer that he was searching for.

"Your daughter endured the surgery well. We'll know more when she wakes up."

Neither Jeff nor Nancy failed to note the reluctance in that answer. Nancy took a deep inhale in response to her sensation of fear. Jeff reacted vociferously to the insufficiency of this answer.

"What are you not telling us, Doctor?"

Dr. Whitesell was loathed to say too much, which was unusual for him. As a veteran surgeon, he was accustomed to giving reports that reflected the basic situation. His hesitancy with regards to Liz Parker was that he was not sure exactly what that was. He pondered this new question for another two seconds and then he gave a report he thought best explained his confliction.

"Your daughter's physical condition is unprecedented for someone with a recent gunshot wound to the abdomen."

"What does that mean?" Jeff challenged with a perplexed expression.

Nancy, too, was confused by these answers. She hung on every word that he said and diligently waited for the answer to her husband's latest question.

"Too put it bluntly, Mr. and Mrs. Parker," Dr. Whitesell solemnly began after a second of reflection. "Your daughter should be dead."

Dr. Whitesell had no desire to tell Jeff and Nancy that their daughter was doing well. He knew that the severity of the injuries she sustained was extremely life threatening. Given this reality he did not find it inconceivable that she could expire while she slept. What was stopping him from saying this was Liz Parker's remarkable resilience. The fact that she was alive at all after the injury and the resulting operation meant that she had weathered the worst that could happen. His only fear at this point was that some complication from these injuries might do what the injury felled to do directly.

"So, is she out of danger," Jeff pushed for a bottom-line.

The lengthy surgery followed by these exasperating questions had pushed Dr. Whitesell to near exhaustion. After a huff of air, he confessed, more than reported, what his thinking was with regards to his question.

"Mr. Parker, I don't think your daughter ever was in any danger," Dr. Whitesell sighed with a look of disbelief. "What we did in there, for the most part, is help her body repair itself."

"Thank God," Jeff responded with a sigh of relief.

Nancy was equally relieved and clasped her arms across her body as she breathed easily for the first time.

"I don't think you understand me," Dr. Whitesell quickly corrected with his hands gesturing for effect. "Her injuries should have killed her and I'm hesitant to say they still won't. However, based upon what I've seen, I-I'm inclined to say that your daughter is well on her way to a full recovery."

Once again the Parkers were confused, but this time there was far less fear. The doctor who was standing there lecturing them seemed to be giving them conflicting information.

"I don't understand," Nancy softly queried with a confused expression. "I thought you said she was out of danger."

Dr. Whitesell knew that he was being unclear. He too was not sure what he was trying to say. He suddenly felt like an intern giving his first consultation. He quickly marshaled his energy to give a more precise explanation.

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Parker," Dr. Whitesell began politely. "What I'm trying to say…, or what I should be saying, is that your daughter's condition is completely unprecedented. Your daughter's physiology has a phenomenal capacity for self-healing. She is truly a medical miracle. And if this miracle holds for another twenty-for hours then I think it would be safe to say, she's completely out of danger."

Jeff and Nancy were once again relieved to the point of excitement. They jumped into each other's arms and hugged with large smiles on their faces and a couple of, "thank God," recitations. After nearly a dozen seconds of this they backed away and turned their attentions to Dr. Whitesell again.

"So, when can we see her?" Nancy questioned eagerly.

"She's going to be in the ICU tonight," Dr. Whitesell reported with renewed assurance. "You can see her through the glass, but she'll be asleep. We'll check her condition tomorrow and if everything looks okay, we'll move her to a room and you'll be able to be with her then."

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you."

Jeff and Nancy Parker quickly expressed their gratitude and then requested directions to the ICU. The report that Liz had survived the surgery and was doing surprisingly well was just enough news to brighten their spirits. The Doctor's concerns about the next twenty-four hours notwithstanding, Jeff and Nancy took from this report that their daughter had survived the worst of it and was physically on the mend.

Dr. Whitesell watched them hurry off with excited optimism. He, too, shared their belief that Liz Parker had put the worst that could happen behind her. He could not imagine how she could, against all odds, survive the trauma of the injury, the excessive loss of blood and the invasiveness of the operation only to pass away due to some unforeseen complication. But it was his estimate of the severity of the wound created at the moment of injury that kept him apprehensive about Liz's final fate. He could not help but fear that the Grim Reaper would come back to claim what was rightfully his. He suspected that the parents likened their daughter's likely recovery to a winning lottery ticket. He thought it was more akin to an elephant defying gravity.


	11. Chapter 11 Delirium to the Max

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 11: Delirium to the Max

"Oh, there you are," Maria gushed with surprise.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon, the next day, when Maria was finally given permission to pay Liz a visit. When she entered the hospital room where Liz was convalescing, she noted with surprise, that she was partially sitting up in bed. A single IV attached to her right arm was the only visibly evidence that she had recently been operated on. Physically she looked nearly as healthy and strong as she did before the shooting.

"Hi," Liz meekly responded with a soft smile.

Liz was flanked by Nancy sitting in a chair next to her on the right side of her bed and Jeff sitting in a chair on the opposite side. Nancy was holding her hand. Maria walked up to the foot of the bed and stopped there to examine her. In her hands she held a vase full of flowers.

"Wow," Maria exclaimed with a confused smile. "You look better than I expected."

"Yeah well, I feel worse than I look," Liz retorted with a suppressed grin. "I don't think I'll be dancing for a little while."

"Yes, but the good news is that you will be dancing again," Jeff reassured with enthusiasm.

Nancy maintained a broad smile and beamed in Maria's direction as Liz and Jeff spoke. "The doctors say she's doing great, better than expected actually," she added a second behind Jeff's endorsement.

Jeff and Nancy were ecstatic about their daughter's condition. Dr. Whitesell advised them that he would not give any assurance that Liz was out of danger until twenty-four hours had passed. The doctors that examined Liz that morning had beat him to the punch. The Parkers were told that all indications supported a prognosis that Liz was well on her way to a full recovery. She was then promptly taken out of ICU and placed in a single occupancy room.

"So, how long will she have to stay here?" Maria queried Nancy.

"Dr. Whitesell said that they're going to keep Liz here for at least a week …for observation and then it'll be a day by day decision," Nancy reported back.

"There goes that A-average," Maria jested with a grin.

Looking to be moderately subdued in her mood, Liz gave no comeback to that. After a brief uncomfortable pause, Jeff jumped in with a response in her stead.

"We're not going to worry about that right now. We just want our little girl to get well and to come home."

"Yeah, right," Maria awkwardly nodded in agreement.

Maria paused for a moment to give all three of the Parkers a look and then she continued on with the thought she intended to proffer.

"Well, if you want …I mean if you're up to it, I can collect your assignments and bring them to you, if you want."

Maria carefully submitted her offer out of confusion over Liz's disposition. Given her present condition, she expected Liz to be gung-ho, at least to a small degree, about keeping up with her studies.

"Yeah, okay, if it's not too much trouble," a distracted Liz reacted after a second of indecision.

Nancy and Jeff were pleased with their daughter's acceptance of this offer. Liz continued to look noncommittal about the idea.

"So great, then we'll do that," Maria stumbled out as she went to the window behind Jeff and set her vase of flowers down.

Maria was unsure about Liz's state of mind and this worried her. Jeff and Nancy did not share in this concern. They accepted Liz's subdued and distracted state as a consequence of the trauma of being shot. Their primary concern was her physical health and they were too busy being relieved that their daughter was on the mend to give any great importance to a mild case of depression.

"Hello Dr. Whitesell," Nancy greeted just as Maria turned back around.

Dr. Whitesell had only recently returned to the hospital. He had been informed, by telephone, of Liz's condition and he Ok'd her departure from the ICU by same. Nonetheless, he was eager to see how his new patient was doing and put her examination at the top of his list. Maria asked if she should leave and was advised that it was not necessary. Dr. Whitesell gave Liz a superficial scrutiny and then turned his attention to the chart at the foot of her bed.

"You're doing remarkably well, Miss Parker," he reported with a hint of surprise.

Nancy, Jeff and Maria were relieved to hear this. Liz appeared to be unfazed by the report.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Whitesell continued a second behind.

"Okay, I suppose," Liz reported after a brief search for the answer. "I mean, I'm sore a little, but that's about it."

An instant after Liz had concluded her report, a thought came to her and she quickly threw it out.

"Oh, and I'm hungry. I could really do with something to bite into."

"Well that's a very good sign," Dr. Whitesell responded with a smile. "But we're going to keep you on fluids for a few days."

Dr. Whitesell then turned his attention to Nancy and Jeff.

"Your daughter is doing amazingly well. I'm tempted to refer to her pace of recovery as superhuman. If this keeps up, she'll be out of here by the end of the week."

Jeff and Nancy were pleased to hear this and reacted to it with grins and smiles. A minute later, Dr. Whitesell took his leave and they turned their attentions back to Liz.

"You hear that, Baby, you're going to be alright," Nancy gushed as she squeezed Liz's hand.

"Yeah, Mom, that's great," Liz responded unenergetically.

Liz was made even more despondent by Dr. Whitesell's report. The word superhuman sent her thoughts racing and her stare into empty space reflected this. After a few seconds of this she woke from her reverie and quickly put forth a thought that she had just come upon.

"You know you guys should go home and get some rest," Liz urged with looks back and forth between Nancy and Jeff. "You've been here all night and I know you have to be hungry."

"No, Baby," Nancy quickly countered. "We're fine."

"Your mother is right," Jeff quickly supported. "We're not leaving you alone. We're going to switch off starting tonight. That way one of us will always be with you."

"You're not fine," Liz affectionately overruled. "I don't want you guys getting sick because of me. Maria will stay with me until one of you comeback. Won't you, Maria?"

"Yeah, sure," Maria quickly concurred.

Jeff and Nancy were checkmated by this and saw no reason to resist. They instructed Maria that one of them would be back by six. They both gave Liz a pair of kisses to her forehead and then left the room.

"What's going on with you?" Maria questioned from behind a stunned expression.

Liz suddenly displayed a new alertness and quickly focused in on Maria.

"Something happened to me, Maria," Liz reported in astonished tone of voice.

"Well yeah," Maria responded with a bit of sarcasm. "You got shot."

"No, I mean with Max," Liz corrected excitedly.

"Well yeah, he saved your life," Maria quickly reported.

"No… I mean yeah he did, but he changed me somehow," Liz asserted with a confused expression.

Maria was even more confused and gave Liz a perplexed stare to express it.

"Changed you, how?"

"Didn't you hear the doctor? My body is healing at a superhuman pace," Liz pointed out with a stunned expression. "That was him. That was Max."

"What was Max?" Maria continued to query with a look of confusion.

"He did this to me somehow," Liz imparted with a bewildered shake of her head. "He fixed me with his mind."

Maria was caught off guard by this report. It was the last thing she expected to hear and she was at first unsure how to respond to it.

"So you're saying that Max Evans has some-kind of superhuman power?" Maria questioned carefully.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's true," Liz partially pleaded.

"I don't think you're crazy, Liz," Maria exclaimed in a calming tone of voice. "I just think you were shot and you lost a lot of blood and you were delirious."

Liz was not dissuaded by this perspective and became all the more determined to convince Maria that this did in fact happen.

"He was in my head, Maria. I'm not imagining this," Liz retorted in a staunch tone of voice. "It was like we were one person and I could feel his mind guiding my body to repair itself."

"He was telling your body to fix a bullet wound," Maria slowly countered in a slightly mocking tone. "Liz, are you hearing yourself," Maria continued with astonishment.

"You heard the doctor, Maria," Liz challenged in a raised tone of voice. "My body is repairing itself at a superhuman pace."

"Or could it be that you just have a freaky body?" Maria questioned with an inflection of irony.

"It wasn't a delusion," Liz softly responded as she resigned herself to the fact that she was not going to convince Maria otherwise. "It couldn't have been."

No sooner had this been said did the door to the room partially open. A second later, Kyle Valenti stuck his head through the opening and peeked into the room.

"Hey, can I come in," Kyle questioned softly.

"Hi, Kyle, come on in," Liz responded gently.

Kyle pushed open the door and walked into the room carrying a vase of flowers.

"How's my girl?"


	12. Chapter 12 The Mystery Deepens

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 12: The Mystery Deepens

Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki had arrived in Boston, Massachusetts two days earlier. He spent most of this time locating and setting up meetings with the remaining living relatives of Jill Hytner in this vicinity. He had already spoken with a niece of hers and a first cousin; fourteen years younger than what Jill would have been if she was still alive. Neither of them had anything of use to tell him about Jill Hytner. The person he most wanted to speak to, and the one he suspected had the greatest insight into the thinking of Jill, was next on his schedule to meet with.

It was the middle of the day and Ryan was driving a rental car into a suburb of Boston. The weather was pleasant, the sun was out and the traffic was light. After nearly an hour's drive, he pulled into an assisted living facility. The community was a large four story building. The structure was attractive and well maintained. The grounds around it were equally as well kept. A narrow river flowed by not too far from the building. It looked to be a place where well to do middle class seniors came to wait out the remainder of their days.

Ryan parked his rental car in the visitor's parking lot and made his way on foot to the front entrance. He carried with him a thin satchel that looked to be lightly occupied. Just inside the front doors, in the foyer, was a reception counter along the left wall of an area that connected to the entrance of the complex on the far side of the room. Entryways into large rooms to the left and right of the foyer were positioned between the reception counter and the front entrance. An attractively attired middle aged woman, with a less than flattering figure and a pleasant smile, was sitting behind the reception counter. She wore a nametag with Erica displayed on it. Ryan promptly removed his Air Force cap and approached her.

"Can I help you," Erica asked without deviating from her pleasing demeanor.

"I'm here to see Carl Hytner," Ryan announced politely.

"Is he expecting you," Erica queried back with a smile.

"Yes," Ryan reported without hesitation. "I've scheduled a one-thirty meeting with him," he explained. "I'm a little early," he added after glancing at the clock on the wall behind her.

"I'll call up to his room," Erica responded as she picked up the receiver to the phone in front of her.

There was a less than quick answer to the call. Michael inferred from the portion of the conversation that he was hearing on this end that it was Carl Hytner who answered the call. After a minute of talking, Erica hung up the phone and turned her attention back to Ryan.

"He's on his way down," she reported with a smile.

"Thank you," Ryan responded with an affirmative.

Ryan stepped back and began looking about him for a place to sit. There was a pair of elevators across from the reception desk and just a little further into the foyer. He began assessing which seat would give him a view of the doors and keep him conveniently within Erica's line of sight. The foyer and the connecting front rooms were quiet. Ryan could hear a television in a back room past the elevators. Other than this, there was no one else to be seen or be heard. Just as he had committed himself to the chair that gave him full view of the receptionist, but positioned him out of line of sight of the elevator doors, Erica spoke up again with a flirtatious query in the form of a statement.

"I didn't know Mr. Hytner had family in the military."

"He doesn't," Ryan reported as he looked around at her. "That is I'm not a member of his family," he corrected with a smile. After a second of thought he added a final revision. "I suppose he could have family in the military, but I'm not aware of them, that is, at least, none that's alive."

"Oh," Erica responded with a smile.

Ryan quickly turned his attention away from her smile and back to the chair. Not overly perturbed by this, Erica turned her attention down to something on the counter that Ryan could not see.

Ryan took a seat and waited for Carl Hytner to make his appearance. After ten minutes of waiting, one of the elevators opened after a loud ding. A plump, balding, white haired man with a mustache and full beard to match stepped through the elevator doorway and into the foyer. He looked to be between five-eight and five-nine in height due to his stoop. Ryan suspected he was between five-eleven and six-feet tall when he was a younger man. He was gray wearing slacks, a light blue polo shirt and a black sport coat. He employed a cane for walking, but the necessity for it was not obvious.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hytner," Erica cheerfully greeted.

"Hi," Carl answered back with far less enthusiasm.

Ryan quickly got to his feet and approached the elder gentleman. They stopped in front of each other at the center of the foyer.

"Mr. Hytner, I'm Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki, we spoke on the phone," Ryan announced with an air of professionalism.

"Thought you might be," Carl responded with a hint of sarcasm. "Come in here," he added a second behind and with a point to the large vacant lounge to the left of the foyer.

Ryan followed Carl Hytner into the room at a pace slightly slower than he was accustomed to. Carl took a seat near the far corner facing the large windows at the front of the building. Ryan took a seat opposite him a second behind. A small round coffee table was situated between them. No sooner had he situated himself in his chair, set his cap on the table and set his satchel on the floor did Carl begin speaking.

"So why is the Air Force so interested in my sister?" Carl inquired blandly. "I filled out that questionnaire they sent me a month after she died."

"Too be honest Sir, I don't know," Ryan responded with a shake of his head. "I'm just a paper pusher."

"A paper pusher," Carl reacted with an inflection of skepticism. He gave Ryan a couple of seconds of study and then spoke up again. "Okay, ask your questions. I don't know if I can give you any more than what I put on the obituary form."

Ryan had no idea what form Carl was speaking of. He suspected, however, that this was where some of the information he had on Jill Hytner came from.

"Mr. Hytner, there are a couple of incongruities in your sister's past that the Air Force is trying to make sense of." Ryan related this in a diplomatic tone.

"My sister got out of the Air Force over fifty years ago," Carl complained with an inflection of incredulity. "You guys would know more about any incongruities in her time there than I would."

"It's her time outside of the service that is confusing us," Ryan quickly explained.

Carl was confused by this and gave the Lieutenant opposite him a brand new study. After half a dozen seconds of this he verbalized his confusion in a tone laced with suspicion.

"You want to make sense of my sister's life after she came out of the Air Force?"

"There are some choices she made that seem out of character for her," Ryan advised.

"Does the Air Force run down every unexplained act that one of its veterans does?" Carl challenged stubbornly.

Ryan began feeling less of a need to be politic in his converse under the weight of Carl's inquiries. He quickly formulated a response that he hoped would end this inquisition.

"Mr. Hytner, I'm just as baffled, and suspicious, as you are about the Air Force's interest in the life of an ex Air Force nurse. I can only rationalize this with the thinking that your sister participated in some assignment in the Air Force that was classified as top secret. This could explain the interest in your sister. I don't know. My job is to collect information and compile it into a report so that someone with a much higher pay grade than I can understand it."

Carl suspected that he had pushed a button in Ryan that effectively dumped out all of the information he had on the subject. Shortly he resigned himself to be less inquisitive and more cooperative.

"If you want to know about my sister after she left the Air Force, I'm not sure I can give you anything useful." Carl began his narrative with a contemplative gaze. "I don't think I knew her at all after she came out of Air Force."

"Why do you say that?" Ryan questioned with intrigue.

"I only saw my sister three times after she left the Air Force," Carl continued. "The first time was when she came home to Boston. She was here for all of two months and then she moved out of state. The other two times were when I visited her. She didn't even come home for our parents funerals."

"Did she tell you why she couldn't attend your parent's funeral?" Ryan quickly asked.

"She said she was busy, just like that," Carl rifled back. "This was not the sister I grew up with. She became a different person during her time in the Air Force."

"Different, how…?" Ryan inquired with a perplexed expression.

"She was distant …serious all the time," Carl explained with a reflective stare. "She didn't joke, or laugh, or play anymore. She was a stranger with my sister's face and memories. After my second visit I gave up on her. I never went to see her again and she never called me."

Ryan was astonished by this story. He gave Carl a few seconds of study before concluding there were no answers to be had here. He then gathered his hat and satchel into his hands and stood up.

"Thank you for your time," Ryan acknowledged with a nod of his head.

Carl was caught off guard by Ryan's sudden rise to his feet. He was still curious about the Air Force's interest in his sister and he wanted to know if he had related anything of value.

"Did this help you at all?" Carl questioned soberly.

Ryan took a couple of seconds to consider the question before answering it.

"No, I'm afraid it just deepens the mystery."

"What will you do now?" Carl questioned with only a hint of interest in his tone.

"My next stop is the Holcomb Children's Home in Albuquerque, New Mexico," Ryan reported with a sigh. "Your sister spent the bulk of her life working inside this facility. Maybe there's an explanation there."

Carl's attention perked up Ryan's last remark. He immediately thought of one last offering to give to the young lieutenant. After slowly rising to his feet and staring Ryan straight on, he somberly annunciated his thinking with regards to Ryan's search.

"If you're looking for an explanation then I suggest you pay a visit to Roswell. Whatever caused my sister to change happened there."


	13. Chapter 13 Time to Go

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 13: Time to Go

Three days after being shot, Liz Evans was given reluctant permission to leave the hospital. Because of the nature of her original wounds, Dr. Whitesell could not help himself from being reserved about each new step in the progression of her recovery. The soul reason for this reluctance was the speed at which Liz's wound had healed. All the evidence at this time suggested that the wound was healing at a pace consistent with someone shot three weeks earlier, rather than three days. Dr. Whitesell along with several other doctors could not get past the fact that Liz had, in actuality, been shot so recently. It was only because of Liz's insistence that Dr. Whitesell agreed to let her leave.

"The follow up examines are important," Dr. Whitesell lectured Liz and her parents. "I want you in my clinic every other day."

"For how long," Liz quickly questioned as she gently tucked in her blouse?

"Considering where you seem to be in your recovery, it probably won't be long." Dr. Whitesell laced his answer with an inflection of exasperation.

"Can I go to school?" Liz anxiously inquired a second behind.

"No," Dr. Whitesell promptly countered. "I don't want you to exert yourself."

"I won't do anything strenuous," Liz quickly promised.

"We'll talk about it when you come in Saturday," Dr. Whitesell responded.

Nancy hovered about Liz anxiously looking for ways to help ready her to leave. Liz successfully deflected these offers up until this moment when she sat down to put on her shoes. Her slow and careful movement to bend over was more than what Nancy could bare to see. She quickly knelt down and began fitting on her shoes, over Liz's objection.

It was a quarter past eleven o'clock, Tuesday morning, and Liz was anxious to reclaim her life. She was still sore from the shooting and the operation, but she felt well enough to do everything she normally did, minus working in the café and gym. This rush to get back to school was not fueled completely by a desire to get everything back to normal. Liz wanted to see Max Evans. She wanted to look at his face and see how he responded to her. She wanted to hear what he had to say about what happened the Saturday just past. She wanted to ask him why bits of his life were now memories inside her head.

On top of these new memories that were in Liz's mind, she was also experiencing a need to hide what she knew. She was aware that this was not coming from her. The bits of new memories in her head were saturated with this sensation. She rationalized that this need was not her obligation. But she wanted to give Max a chance to explain himself before she spoke of this to anyone other than Maria.

As soon as she finished tying Liz's shoe, Nancy stood up and backed away. Liz slowly got up on her feet behind this and tested their snugness. She was quickly satisfied that her shoes were not on too tight or too loose. She then walked over to waiting wheelchair and gently set herself in it. Nancy and Jeff gave her helping hands with this. An orderly standing behind the chair kept his hands gripped firmly to it.

"How long before she'll back to full strength?" Jeff questioned plainly.

"A minimum of three weeks," Dr. Whitesell insisted quickly. "I don't want her doing anything remotely strenuous or physically tiring. After that I'll assess her condition every other week. If I'm still not seeing any complications after three months then I may have to cut her loose altogether and find someone in need of my services."

Jeff and Nancy were pleased to hear this. Liz was buoyed by this too, but not to the same degree. She had confidence that her body was on the mend. She saw the repeated doctor visits as more of a formality than a necessity.

"I would like to schedule some tests in about three weeks," Dr. Whitesell continued with nearly no hesitation. "With your permission…"

"What kind of tests?" Nancy quickly questioned with alarm.

"These tests will have nothing to do with the injury and are perfectly harmless," Dr. Whitesell quickly assured. "And they'll be no bill submitted to your insurance or to you for them."

"Then why does she need them?" Jeff challenged back.

"Mr. and Mrs. Parker, your daughter is, for lack of a better term, a medical miracle," Dr. Whitesell announced with a modicum of excitement. "The speed of her recovery is absolutely unprecedented. The type of testing I'm talking about is all on a microscopic level. I'll just need to take some blood and tissue samples for laboratory analysis. They'll be no risk of any kind to Liz's health, I promise you."

"I don't want to do any tests," Liz's swiftly asserted at the end of Dr. Whitesell's speech.

"Miss Parker, there might be some aspect of your DNA that has medicinal value," Dr. Whitesell implored.

"Mom, Dad, I don't want to do these tests. I just want to go home," Liz pleaded with plaintive looks to them both.

Jeff and Nancy noted the depth of Liz's distress and became instantly conflicted about how they should respond to Dr. Whitesell's requests.

"I don't think you understand," Dr. Whitesell continued with a direct plea to Liz. "The findings of these tests could turn out to be something worth publishing in every major medical journal on the planet."

Liz ignored the weight of Dr. Whitesell's argument and the sincerity in his voice. She continued to look to her parents as she argued against it.

"Mom, Dad, please, I don't want to be tested and examined and probed. I just want to put this behind me."

Dr. Whitesell thought to renew with a different tact, but Jeff suddenly cut him off.

"We're going to pass on this for now. We'll discuss it with Liz when we get her home. And maybe when she's had time to think it over, we might have a different answer for you. But for now, we're going to have to pass on this."

Nancy silently agreed with this answer with a shake of her head. Dr. Whitesell was disappointed with this answer, but he could see he was not going to get a different one at this time. However, he was not prepared to give up on the idea.

Liz's distress about these tests was driven by a fear of what the doctor might find. Her concern was driven by a fear of what they would not find; an explanation. She feared the questions and investigations that could possibly derive from this. The urge to keep this secret within her concealed was motivating her actions. But she knew this would only last until Max Evans had answered for what he had done to her. After that she was determined to act as she thought fit.

With no more said between them and Dr. Whitesell, other than their farewells, the Parkers left the room and then the hospital. She abandoned the wheelchair for the last time at the front of the hospital. As her father drove her towards home, Liz felt a relief to be free of the round the clock attention of the hospital staff. It was not that she was ungrateful for their medical expertise. But she came to the opinion, shortly after the operation, that their services were no longer needed. She was confident that she would mend with rest and time. This she preferred to do this at home, surrounded by the trappings and comforts accumulated during her sixteen years of life.

When Liz got home she found a restaurant full of people waiting there for her, along with a banner welcoming her return. She tried checking the faces for Max Evans, but there were too many to take in with a scan. Maria, however, was there; front and center, and she greeted her with a gentle hug. Amy De Luca was next to welcome Liz home and she did so in the same fashion as her daughter. After the second hug, Nancy quickly set her daughter down to visit with her many friends and acquaintances from a resting position. Liz's view of all present was obstructed much more by this vantage. Liz quickly inclined herself to the thinking that if Max was there she would likely see him in due course.

Over the next thirty minutes, Liz held court at a center table as her friends moved about her. One by one she assured her visitors that she would soon be as good as new. And thanked them in turn for their good wishes. Kyle advised her that the two men responsible for the shooting had confessed and that there would be no trial for her to attend. Liz gave her thanks with a sigh of relief. This was due to her feeling of embarrassment for being the person shot. The idea of having to relive the event in a court of law was a humiliating thought. She was extremely thankful for this bit of news and expressed it with a very large smile. But it in the end it was a stray comment, spoken by someone behind the partition of people in front of her, which intrigued her more than any other.

"I'm surprised Max Evans isn't here."


	14. Chapter 14 Questions and Questions

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 14: Questions and Questions

The Holcomb Children's Home was a wide, single story, brick building sitting on a ten acre plot of land on the outskirts of Albuquerque, New Mexico. The interior of the building contained twenty double occupancy bedrooms, two large bath and restroom facilities, a cafeteria, a large living-room, two classrooms, a laundry room and a large kitchen. The administrative section of the home was almost a smaller separate building in the front connected by a short corridor. Despite the age of the building, nearly fifty years, it was well maintained and looked modern in its design.

The area where the home was situated was isolated. The building was half a mile distant from its neighbor in either direction down a single winding road. Behind the home were a basketball court and a dual purpose baseball and soccer field. At the front of the building, outside of the lobby and administrative offices, was a twenty car parking lot. On a sunny afternoon, First Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki drove his rental car into this area and parked it. In full uniform with satchel in hand, he walked up to the front entrance of the home and entered the building.

Just inside the front door was a small, but attractively furnished lobby. A reception counter was built into the wall on the opposite side of the room from the front entrance and to the left of the front entrance. To the right of the reception counter was a corridor that led through the administrative section of the home and into the housing area. To the right of the entrance was an area closed off from the lobby by a glass wall. A plate on the door read, Meeting Room. The room was furnished with six sofa chairs, an equal number of end tables and coffee table. Behind the reception counter was a small secretarial area. Two desks with chairs were situated in here, face to face. Only one of the chairs was occupied. A moderately attractive lady promptly got up from her seat behind the desk on the right and went to the counter window.

"Hi, can I help you?" The receptionist asked pleasantly.

"Yes," Ryan responded staidly. "I called earlier today. I believe Ms. Simkins is expecting me."

"May I have your name?" The receptionist asked in turn.

"Lieutenant Kawecki."

"I'll let her know that you're here."

The receptionist went to the office door at the left end of the secretarial area. The title Administrator was etched on a nameplate attached there. She gently knocked three times on the door, opened it and then walked two steps into the office. Ten seconds later, she came out of the office, leaving the entryway open. She then opened the door to the lobby just opposite the office door.

"Mrs. Simkins will see you now," the receptionist announced with a smile from just inside the doorway.

Lieutenant Kawecki promptly walked through the secretarial area and into the office on the other side. The receptionist closed the door behind him. The office was small, not much bigger than the secretarial area in front of it. There was a second door along the right wall that opened out into the corridor that ran down the center of the administrative section of the home. Sitting behind a desk, along the wall opposite the doorway, was a large woman with equally large breasts. She looked to be in her mid to late sixties. Her hair was colored brunette to conceal the gray. A pair of granny glasses, with a beaded necklace chain attached, was situated atop the end of her nose. She wore a flowery patterned yellow and brown dress. The top of her desk had two thin piles of paper sitting on top of it. A nameplate at the head of desk read, Ivonne Simkins, Administrator.

"Won't you have a seat?" Ivonne proffered with a gesture of her hand and the slightest hint of a smile.

Ryan took a seat in the chair in front of her desk with a "thank you" and a smile.

"So, it's Lieutenant Kawecki," Ivonne asked with a ruffled brow?

"Yes," Ryan affirmed.

"How can I help you today?"

"I'm here regarding your predecessor, Jill Hytner," Ryan explained concisely.

"Oh yeah," Ivonne reacted back before Ryan could continue. "You called about Jill. I did fill out that obituary questionnaire that the Air Force sent me. Didn't you get that?"

"Yes we did," Ryan acknowledge with a nod. "However, we're seeing some incongruities between the way she led her life and the person that she was when she was in the Air Force."

"Well, I'll try to help you. But I have to tell, Jill Hytner was a mystery to me." Ivonne gave this response with a smile and a shrug.

"Was there anyone here who knew her well?" Ryan inquired with a stern look.

"Nobody that I know of," Ivonne answered with near to a laugh. "I think I knew her as well anyone here. And I know I knew her longer than anyone here."

"Why was she such a mystery?" Ryan pushed for an explanation. "Was she a private person, or secretive?"

"Jill was intense," Ivonne explained with an introspective look across her face. "She was extremely dedicated to the Home, but at times it seemed like she wasn't equally dedicated to the children."

"What does that mean," Ryan quickly pushed for more.

"Don't get me wrong," Ivonne quickly qualified. "She was good to the children. But her primary concern seemed to be keeping the home solvent. She worked tirelessly to raise money to keep this place open."

"Do you think she could have been skimming money?" Ryan tossed out with no real conviction.

"Oh no, never," Ivonne quickly disputed. "Jill was devoted to Holcomb. I don't think she would have taken a salary if she didn't need to."

"I don't understand then," Ryan confessed with a perplexed stare. "Why was she so passionate about Holcomb? What was so special about this place?"

"I asked myself that question more than once," Ivonne answered back with a shake of her head. "But I can confirm that Holcomb was her life."

"Did she have any interests outside of Holcomb?" Ryan questioned after a couple of seconds of thought.

"None that I knew of," Ivonne reported with a nonchalant shake of her head.

Ivonne looked away for a moment to reconsider the question. Ryan noted the introspection and decided to wait on its results.

"She did take an unusual interest in some children that came through here once," Ivonne reported this even as she continued to study the memory.

"Unusual?" Ryan queried back with a word.

"Unusual for her," Ivonne clarified with a shrug.

Ryan took a moment to give Ivonne a studied look. Shortly he decided to push Ivonne for more about this.

"So, was she mean to them?"

"Oh no," Ivonne quickly retorted. "Just the opposite, she managed everything herself."

"And that was unusual how?" Ryan questioned with a perplexed expression.

"She was the administrator," Ivonne explained with an almost shocked expression. "The staff takes care of the children. She wouldn't let anyone go near these kids."

Ivonne took a moment to study the memory a little more. Ryan elected to wait on the outcome of this analysis. After a few seconds she mused out the product of her rumination.

"Now that I remember it, the children were pretty unusual too."

"Explain," Ryan quickly challenged with a word.

"They were all eerily quiet," Ivonne continued to muse out. "They wouldn't speak to anyone. I don't think they ever spoke to Jill. They all had this blank vacant expression. They would occasionally cry like any normal child. But beyond that, they were emotionless."

"How many kids are we talking about," Ryan asked inquisitively.

"Fourteen," Ivonne promptly answered back. "Seven girls and seven boys, that, I remember. They couldn't have been much more than two years of age. They just started appearing, two at a time, over a six to eight month period."

"Do you recall where these children came from?" Ryan casually inquired.

"I'm telling you, these kids were a complete mystery. No one, except Jill, knew where they came from. She just started coming to work every two or three weeks with a child in each hand."

"Didn't anyone ask her about them?" Ryan questioned with a hint of incredulity.

"I did, once," Ivonne replied with a straight forward delivery. "She told me it was none of my affair and to keep out of it. We all thought it was some hush, hush deal that she had going. Jill was always about the money."

Ryan had grown very intrigued by this story. This was the first anecdote about Jill Hytner that suggested something was motivating her actions. He quickly pulled a writing tablet out of his satchel and a pen from out of his breast pocket.

"Can you give me the names of these children?"

"We were never allowed to know," Ivonne answered back with a shake of her head.

Ryan was instantly confused by this answer and promptly expressed the nature of same with a brusque inquiry.

"Well, can't you look it up?"

"No, I can't," Ivonne retorted with a hint of dismay. "I'm telling you, Jill managed everything with regards to these children. I have never been able to find any records concerning those children, or the people who adopted them. Jill managed it all and she took the information with her."

Ryan was suddenly more intrigued with the life of Jill Hytner than he had ever been before. But he knew that the only thing that he acquired from out of this tantalizing narrative was more questions that needed to be answered.


	15. Chapter 15 I Have to Know

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 15: I Have to Know

On the Monday of the next week, Liz Parker returned to school, much to the consternation of Dr. Whitesell. He found the timing of her return shockingly quick. But he was defenseless against the results of Liz's last examination and her insistence on getting back in class.

"I feel great, just some minor soreness. Which I believe is more your doing than the bullet."

Doctor Whitesell relented to this with the proviso that she does nothing strenuous and that she leaves the instant she feels any discomfort. Liz left his clinic the Saturday past with an eagerness to meet with Max Evans.

Liz arrived at Roswell High School in the passenger seat of Maria's 1992 Volkswagen Jetta. This was not an uncommon arrangement. Liz and Maria were best friends and they regularly rode to school together. The only difference between this day and any other was the edict of Liz's parents that Maria chauffeurs her there and back. Maria was only too happy to do this. The excitement swirling about her best friend made her all the more entertaining to be around.

The first three hours of school was a parade of questions for Liz. Almost at every turn in the hallways, she was ambushed with questions from students and teachers alike. The most common questions were inquiries about her condition and how did it feel to be shot. She endured the questions pleasantly. Over the past week she had grown accustomed to them, and had by then developed a list of shorthand answers: a little sore, no, yes, when I bend over, when I walk too fast, anything I want, painful, dazed, confused, dreamlike, no memory of it, I have to go. She had on two occasions seen Max in the halls. But he quickly evaded her shortly after their stares cross connected. Liz made no attempt to follow him. She was waiting for their fourth period class.

Liz entered her fourth period biology class and found Max sitting in his assigned location. Their eyes met and then Max quickly looked away. His efforts to look like he was indifferent to her sent a virtual alarm bell off in Liz's head. She knew he was intensely aware of her. And this all but validated, in her mind, that what she experienced was not the result of her delirium.

"Max," Liz called out an instant before intercepting him at the door at the end of the class. "We need to talk."

"About what," Max responded with feigned confusion?

"I need to know what you did to me," Liz insisted in a hushed voice.

The other students were still filing out of the room as they spoke.

"You know what I did, Liz," Max responded softly with a slight incredulous shake of his head. "I just did what I could to stop the bleeding."

"You did more than that and you know it," Liz argued back.

Max gave Liz his best look of confusion before responding to her outburst.

"I'm sorry, Liz, I don't know what you want me to say. But I really should get to my next class."

Max slipped around her and started out the classroom door. He and Liz were the last two in the room. Just before he cleared the doorway, Liz reacted with a threat, more so than a response.

"Yes you do, Max and if you don't talk to me, I'm telling Dr. Whitesell that you're the reason why my body started healing at a superhuman pace."

Max was caught by surprise with this accusation. He quickly turned about and stared into Liz's eyes.

"Those are his words, not mine," Liz added a second later.

For a moment Max thought about probing into Liz's mind and making some adjustments. But the thought was only a passing one. He knew himself incapable of doing any harm to Liz. After a second of thought, he stepped back into the room and confronted Liz face on.

"Meet me behind the football field bleachers during study," Max softly instructed as he stared into her eyes with an expression of worry on his face.

Three seconds later, Max turned away and left the room at a hurried pace. Liz paused there for several seconds and then left the room with more than a little worry about what she had begun. During her sixth period study, Liz hesitantly walked out of the school and towards the football field. As soon as she rounded the last corner she saw Max waiting for her. He saw her instantly and visually followed her approach. Liz slowly walked toward him as she studied his appearance for any indication about his mood. After nearly a minute, she stopped directly in front of him.

"What do you think you know, Liz?" Max questioned with an expression of embarrassment.

"I know you healed me, Max," Liz almost pleaded. "I know you did it with your mind, somehow. I know that this thing that you can do has something to do with your sister and Michael Guerin. And I know that you're hiding. What are you, Max? How did you do that?"

Max hesitated to give Liz an answer. He discerned that she only had fragments of his memories and he was reluctant to add to what she already knew. But he feared that any attempt at evasion would give Liz the license she needed to expose him, Isabel and Michael.

"I don't know what I am," Max confessed solemnly after a moment of thought. "I just know that I can do things that normal people can't."

"And Isabel and Michael, they can do these things too," Liz questioned with intrigue and concern.

Max was suddenly experiencing an overwhelming sensation of fear. He knew he had crossed a boundary that was fixed in his mind like a neurosis. He knew that he could not turn back from what he started. But his trepidation was pushing back against his reasoning. This internal emotional struggle was manifesting itself in his actions and his expressions. Liz noted his fidgeting and anxious behavior with a look of concern. After a few seconds of this, Max continued his confession in a near pleading tone of voice.

"You have to understand, Liz, this is something we've been hiding since we were eight. We kinda feel that our lives are depended on our staying hidden. Please, Liz, our lives are in your hands. You can't tell anyone about this."

Liz took objection to this instruction and displayed as much across her face.

"Why, Max, why do you have to hide it? Why should I trust you?" Liz questioned with an inflection of shock. "You have a gift…, an, ability…, or possibly even a weapon. I don't know. I need to know why you have to keep it a secret. I need to understand, Max," Liz implored in turn.

"I saved your life, Liz," Max quickly pointed out. "I didn't have to do that."

"I know," Liz concurred with a shake of her head as she spoke. "And that's why I haven't spoken about this to anyone. But, Max, I don't feel right about not telling my parents and Dr. Whitesell about what really happened. I mean, couldn't this just be a phobia?"

"No," Max quickly corrected. "It's more than that."

Max suddenly felt a desperate need to clarify how important this was to him. With almost no thought given to what he was saying, he blurted out a suggestion that he knew would eliminate Liz's misconception.

"I can show you!"

"What, what does that mean?" Liz questioned with an expression of confusion.

"I can show you who I am," Max explained in a soft voice. "I can show you that I'm not dangerous. I can make it possible for you to see who I am."

Liz was taken aback by Max's offer. She did not know what he meant by this. But she feared it involved him connecting with her mind again. She interpreted his sudden calm demeanor and pleading stare as a validation of this.

"What do you mean, I can see you?" Liz questioned hesitantly.

"You only saw bits and pieces of me," Max explained in a soothing tone. "I can show you everything."

Liz was clearly frightened by this suggestion. She moved back an inch in reaction to the nudging of her flight reflex.

"I-I don't know," Liz fumbled out the words three seconds later.

Max noted her fear. He made no move towards her to minimize this as much as possible. After a moment of silence, he softly clarified his intention.

"I don't need your permission, Liz …but I won't do anything without it."

Liz took a moment to return Max's stare before accepting his offer with a slight nod of her head. She continued to meet his gaze with a look of wonder and fear. A few seconds into this, she felt her mind expand into his. The sudden sensation of this extended sense of being took her by surprise. She gasped with a sudden inhale of air. A dozen seconds later, she began to relax into the experience. She did not feel as though she was in his mind, or that he was in hers. She felt like a whole new being, with her memories and his mixed within the brain of this new person. She suddenly knew everything there was to know about Max Evans. She knew his fears, his hopes, his likes and dislikes. And most of all, what she knew about Max was that he was hopelessly in love with her. She could see herself through his eyes. She could see in his mind how perfect she looked to him. And she suddenly realized how much saving her went against his need to hide. And then suddenly, after what felt like five minutes, but in reality was less than one, this new person was gone. She was herself again and Max Evans was standing two feet away staring back at her. They held their stares for a dozen seconds more before an astounded Liz nodded in the affirmative.


	16. Chapter 16 After School Report

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 16: After School Report

"So, what happened with Liz?" Michael queried as the jeep rumbled away from Roswell High School.

Max was driving and Isabel was in the passenger seat looking towards him for the reply. She waited patiently for all of five seconds before bursting into a shocked awareness.

"Oh my God, you told her."

Michael erupted at Isabel's assertion. "You told her?"

"I had to," Max defended. "She knew too much."

"Oh so, she knew too much?" Isabel questioned with an enraged expression. "Well how much did she know, Max? How much was too much?"

"None of that matters anymore," Michael interceded sternly. "She definitely knows too much now."

"I can't believe you did that, Max," Isabel exclaimed with an inflection of hurt feelings. "This involves all of us. I can't believe you risked everything for this girl that you don't even know."

Isabel had always believed that Max and Michael would keep their secret with the same determination as she did. She had believed, up until Max's incident with Liz at the Crash-Down Café, that their maintenance of the status quo was paramount. However, despite Max's lapse of judgment in this, she never believed he could intentionally divulge their true selves to an outsider. She saw this as more than a betrayal to her and Michael. She believed such an act by Max would be tantamount to disowning their parents.

Leaving Roswell was accepted by Isabel, Max and Michael as the only solution for being found out. This was a frightening prospect for all three of them, but it was far more so for Isabel than Max and Michael. Isabel could not entertain the idea of ever being separated from her parents. It did not matter who or what she was, or where she came from. Her hope was to always be Phillip and Diane Evans' daughter.

"Liz won't tell anyone," Max insisted with a look toward Isabel.

"And she told you that?" Michael questioned sarcastically.

"Yes she did," Max insisted heatedly.

"She's lying to you, Max," Michael replied dryly.

"No, Liz wouldn't do that," Max contradicted in a mildly defensive tone.

"Think about it, Max." Michael challenged. "You were standing right in front of her. She probably would have said anything to get away from you."

"We can trust Liz," Max insisted with finality.

"Oh, come on, Max," Isabel jumped in with an exasperated tone. "How can you know what's going on in her…"

Isabel was stopped by a sudden comprehension. Her eyes went wide as she gasped on a sudden inhale of air. An instant later she blurted out the thought that came to her.

"You joined minds with her!"

Max was reluctant to respond to this. His hesitation was all the confirmation that Isabel and Michael needed.

"You got to be kidding me, Max," Michael exclaimed with astonishment. "On top of having _all_ of your memories now, she knows about the dreams we're having. She knows our suspicions about who we are and where we came from. She knows our strength and weaknesses. You've given her the power to hurt us, Max."

Isabel was terrified into silence. She brought her hands to face as she pondered the ramifications of this discovery.

"It was the only way I could convince her that we weren't dangerous," Max responded defensively.

"But we are dangerous," Michael argued back. "And you've shown her just how dangerous we are. Can't you see that?"

Isabel was becoming more frightened with each word that was being said. She could not think to speak because of the panic she was experiencing.

"Now we _have_ to leave," Michael declared in a stern voice.

Another gasp of air was Isabel's reaction. Max's response was to swerve the jeep over to the side of the road and slam on the brakes. A cloud of dust, stirred up by the jeep, briefly washed over the vehicle immediately after it skid to a stop on the dirt shoulder of the road. The area they had been driving through was comprised of scattered ranch houses positioned forty to fifty yards back from the road. Each house had a generous expanse of land around it that was being used as corrals and shelters for horses, cattle, sheep and other livestock. Short dirt roads connected the houses to the road. The trappings of an urban community, sidewalks and lamp posts, had yet to reach this area. Michael jumped out of the jeep, on the passenger's side, a second after it stopped. Max followed his lead and walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle to confront him.

"We're not leaving, Michael," Max exclaimed in a determined voice.

"What are you talking about, Max? We're exposed here," Michael insisted.

"If we start running, then we can never stop," Max yelled. "And you know we can't leave Roswell, Michael."

Max's last remark was in reference to the rock formation that kept whispering to them in their dreams. They all knew that it was somewhere in the wilderness outside of Roswell.

"Oh yeah right," Michael yelled out with exaggerated arm gestures. "Like that's going to mean anything when we're locked up and being dissected."

"Liz won't tell anyone," Max exclaimed with a look toward Isabel. "I saw it in her mind."

"That's great, Max," Michael retaliated with sarcasm. "What happens when she changes her mind?"

Max hesitated to say, "She won't," in an unsure voice.

Michael began to fume in silence as he looked away from the source of his vexation. Max turned his attention to Isabel who was still sitting in the jeep staring at the floor with a look of dread.

"We can trust Liz," Max calmly spoke to Isabel.

"I hope you're right, Max," Isabel responded back with a look.

"You're not listening to him," Michael yelled as he spun around and reengaged in the conversation.

"Max is right," Isabel insisted with a glare towards Michael. "If we run then there's no stopping."

"We have to give Liz a chance before we start taking drastic actions," Max supported.

"I can't believe this," Michael roared into the air as he walked a couple of steps away with his arms flailing. He then turned back to assert his next remark directly at Max and Isabel. "You two are still trying to hold on to your phony lives. When are you going to accept the fact that we're not one of them? Your parents aren't your parents."

"Oh give it up, Michael" Isabel fired back with rage. "Just because you've had a crummy life doesn't mean we have to disown our parents."

Michael knew better than to push that button again. He could see that the matter was settled. And he knew that attacking the motivation behind their decision would only provoke them into digging their heels in deeper. After a couple of seconds of fuming, Michael paced back two steps in resignation, his eyes staring at the ground.

Michael could never leave Roswell without Max and Isabel. They were just as much a part of his family as he was of theirs. His bond with them was too strong for him to even consider breaking it. After thirty seconds of contemplation and kicking the dirt, Michael came to the conclusion that Max was right. He was jumping to the worst case scenario. He knew that he probably wanted to find out what it was in the desert whispering to him in his dreams more than Isabel or Max. He concluded that running away for him was more about getting rid of his phony family and attaching himself, once and for all, to his real one.

"Okay," Michael announced with resignation. "Maxwell, you win. We stay. But we need to talk about doing something about that girlfriend of yours."

"No we don't," Max insisted with a hint of defiance.

Michael matched his defiance and took a stance directly in front of Max before responding.

"She knows too much, Max, and you know."

"You stay out of her head, Michael," Max warned with an icy stare as he inched closer to Michael.

Michael stood firm and held his stare of defiance. Isabel could see that this was not going to a good place and quickly jumped in to ease the tension.

"Michael, we can't," Isabel almost pleaded. "If you go messing around in Liz's head, you'll make things worse."

They all knew that they could not erase Liz's memories. But they might be able to coax her into to forgetting them for short periods of time. However, this was only a temporary fix, assuming that it worked at all. They all knew that once they went down this road that Liz's mind would need to be managed continuously. They all knew that once Liz found the foot prints of their tampering with her brain, the problem would then become exponentially greater. This more than anything else would convince her of the level of danger they presented. And Liz would likely take measures against further tampering and against them.

"I'm not going to do anything," Michael declared nonchalantly. "She's your girlfriend," he continued as he stared into Max's eyes. "If she becomes a problem, Maxwell, you're going to have to make a decision, her or us."

With that said Michael turned about and began walking down the road in the direction they were heading and towards home. Max and Isabel watched in silence for a dozen seconds as Michael strode off without hesitation and without looking back. At the end of this time, Max walked around to the driver's side of the jeep and climbed in. He promptly started the engine, released the brake, applied the clutch and shifted the gear. Just before he could pull off Isabel put a question to him in a soft voice and with a look.

"What will you decide, Max?"

Max hesitated for a few seconds to consider the question and then he answered softly without returning Isabel's look.

"Liz won't tell anyone."

Max then released the clutch while applying gas. He U-turned the jeep back onto the road and then raced off down the road in the direction that they had just came.


	17. Chapter 17 A New World

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 17: A New World

"What's wrong with you, Liz?" Kyle complained as much as he queried.

Liz had just returned to her home from a date with Kyle. They had gone to the theater to watch a show and were then standing outside the front door of the Parker's residence.

"I don't know what you mean," Liz timidly responded as she evaded his stare.

"Yes you do, Liz," Kyle contradicted. "You know exactly what I mean."

It was a Saturday night and three weeks had passed since Liz's return to school. This was the first date that she and Kyle had been on since before the shooting. He had made numerous requests for dates and to just be with her. But Liz had, up until then, always found an excuse she could use to evade him.

"I practically had to drag you out of the house," Kyle began to tirade. "And then you spent the whole evening acting like you rather had been someplace else."

"I told you it was too soon for me to be out," Liz countered halfheartedly.

"What do you mean?" Kyle disputed. "It's been a month."

Liz knew that everything Kyle was saying was true. She also knew that her excuses had become obvious, and this was all just her way of avoiding what she really wanted to do, which was break up with Kyle. This was not because she disliked Kyle. He was, in the beginning, her idea of the best choice for a boyfriend. The problem was that she was not particularly interested in having a boyfriend in the beginning. School work and grades had been Liz's number one concern for as long as she could remember. It was the pressure of friends and the upcoming proms that caused her to entertain Kyle's advances. And these motivations would probably still be nudging her to be with Kyle had it not been for one new situation, Max Evans.

For the first time in Liz's life, she was infatuated with a boy. Her studies were suffering for the thought of Max. She dreamed about him at night and daydreamed about him during the day. School was suddenly about something other than learning. This was the one time when she was almost guaranteed a chance to see him. Her whole life revolved around being near, or even better, with a boy. And what made this whole event all the more excruciating, she knew that he felt the same way about her.

"You know Kyle," Liz began after a large inhale of courage. "I think we should break up."

"Break up," he repeated back in an alarmed tone of voice. "Just like that, you want to break up with me."

"Things obviously aren't working out," Liz defended insecurely. "And you deserve to be with someone who's not distracted."

Kyle was made visibly upset by Liz's suggestion that they break up. And he grew suddenly angry by Liz's attempt to explain it as some personal problem she was having. A second after she spoke, he expressed this anger vocally.

"Oh, distracted as in Max Evans?"

Liz became instantly alarmed by Kyle's mention of Max. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that this break up was about another boy, least of all Max.

"No, Kyle," Liz cried out in a panicked voice. "Max has nothing to do with this."

"You don't think I haven't seen the way you two have been looking at each other," Kyle continued without regard for Liz's denial.

"That's not what you think, Kyle," Liz argued back defensively.

"Hell, Liz, it's exactly what I think," Kyle disputed loudly. "You nearly jump out of your skin every time you see him."

Kyle paused to give Liz a look of incredulity and then he continued again in a quiet and faintly pleading tone of voice.

"I know he saved your life, Liz. But he didn't do anything a dozen other people wouldn't have done if they had gotten to you first."

"You're wrong, Kyle," Liz answered back with finality. "This has nothing to do with Max saving my life."

Kyle could see that nothing he said was going to change Liz's decision. He took a couple of steps back with a mixture of hurt and resignation on his face.

"Okay, Liz, whatever you say."

Kyle turned about and set off for his car at an unhurried pace. He stopped to look back at Liz after he opened the driver's door. A second later he climbed inside his car and raced off for home. Liz, in turn, went into her home, and to bed, relieved and anxious about being a free girl again.

Max was not the only person who had been getting surreptitious glances from Liz Parker. Michael and Isabel were victims of her increased attention over the past three weeks. They both were annoyed by this and gave Liz angry glances to communicate as much. Liz, in turn, did her best not to look at them every time they came around a corner or entered a room that she was in. She failed in this miserably and the angry frowns persisted.

Max discontinued his practice of lunching at the Crash-Down Café immediately after the shooting. Since that time, the only time Liz was likely to see him was at Roswell High School. On the Monday after her Saturday night date with Kyle, she returned to school even more anxious to see him than any time before. This was due to her new relationship status. The report of her break up with Kyle was circulating around the school quickly. Maria got this ball rolling after Liz told her the day before. By the time their mutual lunch period began Liz had seen him twice and nothing had been said between them. She expected nothing to be different here, as well.

"So, are you going to talk to him?" Maria questioned from across the table from Liz.

Max had just entered the cafeteria and sat down at his usual table with his back facing toward Liz. She followed his movement from the moment he entered the room with repeated glances his way. Maria noted this attention with a smile. Isabel was monitoring the situation as well. She was sitting with her usual small clique of girlfriends a couple of tables away.

"No," Liz responded unconvincingly.

"Then why did you break up with Kyle?" Maria asked with a bewildered expression.

"That had nothing to do with Max," Liz softly asserted before returning to the food in her tray.

"Are you kidding me," Maria whispered back across the table. "You can't keep your eyes off of him."

"Well, he saved my life," Liz explained under her breath and with a shake of her head. "We can't help but notice each other."

"Please, Liz, you're talking to me, your oldest and dearest friend," Maria retorted with exasperation. "Are you planning on going through the whole school year like this? And what about prom…?"

Liz had no immediate response for this. She was not giving any thought to the prom. But the idea of spending her entire school year looking at each other but not talking did seem a little absurd to her.

"I can't," Liz reported after several seconds of thought.

"Why?" Maria questioned with incredulity. "He's sitting right over there."

"It's complicated," Liz countered with a hint of finality.

"No it's not," Maria quickly asserted. "You're just making it complicated."

Once again Maria had made a comment that caused Liz to rethink what she was doing. It made sense to her that this awkward situation should be alleviated. But each time she grappled with this in her mind, she concluded that she was just rationalizing a way to entertain her infatuation. Her fear was that he would see right through her silly little lovesick stare.

"Besides," Maria continued after consuming a bite of food. "He's obviously more in love with you than you are with him."

Maria had suddenly made a point that pushed Liz over the top. She suddenly realized how silly it was for her to be uncomfortable about her feelings for Max. She knew that he was attracted to her and was trying just as hard as she to suppress it.

"Okay, you're right," Liz confidently concluded after her thought.

"I am?" Maria questioned back with a shocked inflection.

Without saying another word to Maria, Liz gathered up her tray and went over to the table where Max was sitting alone.

"Hi, Max," Liz announced as she sat down across from him.

Max noted her appearance with a look of surprise. After choking down a morsel of food, he responded to her greeting with his own.

"Hi."

"Max, I was thinking," Liz began innocently as she searched his eyes for signs of disapproval. "It seems silly to me for us to spend the entire school year trying not to talk to each other."

"I know, Liz, and I'm sorry," Max replied apologetically. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"But that's just it," Liz countered. "It did happen and maybe we shouldn't be trying so hard to pretend that it didn't. I've known you since grammar school, Max. We shouldn't have to be strangers to each other."

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Max counseled softly.

"Why?" Liz questioned back with curiosity in her voice.

In his mind, Max began fumbling with an answer to this question. It was at this moment that Michael sat down beside him.

"Why are you here," Michael questioned Liz brusquely the instant he sat down. "Isn't your table the one over there with that ditzy chick?"

"Michael," Max admonished quickly. "We're just talking."

"If you mean Maria, then yes we usually sit together," Liz pleasantly injected her reply to Michael's question.

"Don't mind Michael," Max instructed Liz in a soft voice.

"This shouldn't be happening, Max," Michael gruffly announced.

"Why?" Liz queried Michael with a look of surprise.

"Because it shouldn't, that's why," Michael retorted to Liz. "So you should just go back to your table and stay there."

Max was just about to give Michael a stern rebuke when Maria suddenly slid into the chair next to Liz and opposite Michael.

"Hey guys, what's happening over here?" Maria questioned with an ill at ease tone of voice.

Maria had noted Michael's addition to the table and quickly decided to come to the aid of her friend and balance out the number.

"Wow, this is great, Max," Michael reacted sarcastically, "really great."

"What's great?" Maria questioned with an inflection of confusion.

"Nothing," Max quickly interjected ahead of Michael. "We were just talking how great Liz looks."

Maria felt she was on sure footing for the first time since sitting at the table. The topic of discussion was something she knew about and could easily converse on. And her habit of talking when she was nervous made doing so an imperative.

"Thanks to you," Maria pointed out with a hint of excitement.

Liz was just about to excuse herself from the table and take her friend with her when Maria tossed out a humorous comment.

"So, Superboy, have you mind melded with anyone else lately?"

Max, Michael and Liz were taken by surprise by this comment. All three of them glanced at each other with looks of shock. Maria was confused by this change in their expressions and quickly queried about it.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought you said she wasn't going to tell anyone," Michael grumbled angrily in Max's face.

Max looked quickly to Liz for some explanation. She, in turn, jumped at the chance to give it.

"I told Maria the day after I got shot. She's my best friend."

Maria was growing more confused by each new remark she heard.

"What?" Maria questioned with a wide eye expression. "It's not like any of it is true. She was delirious, end of story," she concluded in an off the cuff manner.

"This isn't going to work," Michael declared in an exasperated tone.

Michael suddenly stood up after this remark. He glared down at Max for all of two seconds and then set off for the cafeteria exit at a hurried pace.

"What's his problem?" Maria questioned with an expression of incredulity.

Max gave no thought to this inquiry. He was too busy entertaining questions about Michael and what he was about to do. After a second of contemplation, he too got up on his feet and followed after him at a hurried pace.

"What just happened?" Maria questioned, more confused than ever.

As Maria was asking her question, Isabelwas rising up from her seat. As soon as she got to full stance, she excused herself to her friends and set off for the exit behind Max. Liz took note of her exit as Maria continued to query her about what was going on.

"I should never have told you about what Max did," Liz advised Maria with a quick turn of the head in her direction. "You have to promise me, Maria, don't tell anyone about what I said, please."

Maria noted the sincerity and desperation in Liz's voice and responded to that more than what she had said.

"Okay, I won't."

No sooner had Maria given this promise did Lizjump up onto her feet and take off after Max, Isabel and Michael. Still confused about what was going on, Maria got up on her feet and took off after her.

Max caught up with Michael in the school parking lot. He jumped in front of him to check his forward advance.

"Come on, Michael, don't do something stupid."

The suggestion that he might do something stupid drew in Michael's attention. He stopped to respond to this with an emotional outburst.

"Stupid, like tell some stranger all about us, you mean stupid like that, Maxwell?"

Just as Michael was speaking, Isabel caught up with them. Racing behind her, at a jog, were Liz and Maria.

"What's wrong?" Isabel inquired in a voice full of worry.

"Liz told motor mouth over there all about us," Michael answered sarcastically and with a point to Maria.

"What?" Isabel reacted with a shocked expression.

Isabel took two steps back as she studied Liz and Maria with a terrified expression. Two seconds later she turned her attention to Max and verbalized this feeling.

"I thought you said she wouldn't tell anyone, Max. What are we supposed to do now?"

The look of fear on Isabel's face gave new power to Max's memories in Liz's head. She recalled the worry that was in Max's thoughts the day they linked their minds. And she remembered the depth of his concern for Isabel and Michael. At that moment Liz knew that she had to relieve Isabel's fears.

"This was before I knew I shouldn't," Liz blurted out quickly.

"Who else has she told, Max?" Isabel queried with a bewildered expression.

"I didn't tell anyone else," Liz insisted in a voice desperate for Isabel's belief.

"And what about her," Isabel questioned in a startled tone of voice and a quick look to Maria?

The sudden turn of everyone's attention towards Maria caused her to go wide eye with wonder.

"What?" Maria questioned in an alarmed tone of voice.

"Tell them that you haven't spoken about what I told you," Liz urged with a resolute stare.

"Wait a minute," Maria reacted with a look of disbelief. "Why does it matter that you thought Max healed you with his mind?"

"Be quiet!" Michael sternly order in a hushed tone of voice.

"Listen, Buddy," Maria countered defiantly. "I don't like being told what to do. Besides, what's the big deal? So I told a few people. Who cares? Nobody believed it."

Michael turned to Max and gave him an, I told you so, look. Max was not equally perturbed by this, but Isabel was shocked into a verbal outburst.

"Oh no…!"

Max quickly took note of Isabel's concern and Liz took note of his, in turn.

"Now do you see why we have to leave?" Michael questioned Max with an amazed expression. "This thing is just going to keep getting bigger."

Max had no ready answer for this question. His only reaction was to look to Liz with worry.

"No its not," Liz spoke up quickly. "Maria won't tell anyone else," she continued with a turn to her closes friend. "Tell them; tell them you won't talk about this to anyone again."

Maria gradually came to the realization that no one here was joking with her. Despite this she was still did not believe anything that had been said. She took one last look into the faces of Max, Isabel and Michael, for some sign that this whole thing was in jest. After a dozen seconds of blank faces and fixed stares she decided to play along.

"All three of them…?" Maria questioned Liz blandly.

"Tell them you won't repeat what I told you to anyone," Liz insisted with an inflection of urgency.

"Okay, okay I won't tell anyone," Maria relented. "What's the big deal? It's not like anyone would believe it, anyway."

A moment of pause followed Maria's assurance and skeptical remark. Max looked to Isabel for evidence that she was okay with what she heard. After half a dozen seconds had passed, he put her to the question on it.

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah, Max, this is just perfect," Isabel responded with sarcasm and scowl. "This is just peachy-keen."

No sooner had she spoken these words did Isabel set off for the school in a huff. Frustrated by what he was seeing, Michael tossed his hands into the air before verbalizing what he was feeling.

"I don't believe this," Michael announced as he turned about for the school entrance.

Max watched Michael go into the school before turning about to look at Liz.

"It's going to be okay, Max, I promise," Liz assured him quietly in response to his look.

Max was not sure of anything and he knew this only too well right then. He knew that it was his hope that everything could stay as they were. But he was beginning to believe that this was an unrealistic hope.

"I need to get back inside," Max spoke up mildly.

Liz responded to this with a nod of her head and then Max turned and walked away.

"What just happened?" Maria asked as soon as Max was out of earshot.

"Not now, Maria," Liz answered with a shake of her head.

Liz turned towards the high school entrance and started toward it with Maria by her side.

"Okay, but we're talking tonight," Maria insisted.

"Okay," Liz answered softly.

"And I want to know everything, Liz," Maria asserted with scowl.

"Okay."


	18. Chapter 18 The Long Talk

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 18: The Long Talk

"Okay, Liz, talk to me," Maria instructed a second after closing the door. "What was that about today?"

Maria was visiting with Liz at her home. It was the evening after their encounter with Max, Michael and Isabel in the school parking lot. Maria had been looking forward to this chance to question Liz about that event. And Liz was hoping that she had dismissed the whole episode by then.

"Maria, we're supposed to be studying," Liz countered with a look of annoyance.

"No way, Liz," Maria responded with a grin and a shake of her head. "Don't even try that with me. I want to know what the hell went down today," she insisted as she climbed on to Liz's bed and folded her legs beneath her.

Liz was seated atop her bed as well, with a book open in front of her. She gave Maria a look of reluctance for two seconds and then closed the book in front of her.

"Okay, Maria," Liz began in a slightly exasperated tone. "But you have to promise never to talk about this to anyone."

"Oh, that again," Maria reacted with an exaggerated look of bewilderment. "I told you I wouldn't."

"This is serious," Liz stressed. "You have to promise me."

"Okay, okay," Maria responded with a flash of resignation. "I promise I will never speak of anything you tell me now, or told me in the past, about Max Evans …or Isabel, and what's his name to another living soul …Are you happy now?"

Liz gave Maria a long, suspicious, stare. This was not because she did not trust her. Liz had every confidence that Maria would keep her word to her. Liz's biggest concern here was for Maria's safety. She did not know where this situation was going or how things would end up. Liz spent half the day wondering if it would be best to let Maria continue thinking that this was all just some delusion she was experiencing. But her fear here was that Maria would think nothing of telling others about it. In the end Liz concluded that Maria had to be brought in on the secret and sworn to keep it.

"They're not like us," Liz began almost at a whisper.

Maria knew exactly who Liz was talking about and thought nothing about commenting on this. She just continued to look at Liz with a, so what, stare.

"They're not from around here," Liz added a second behind.

Maria was not seeing the significance of this information. Impatient for the big secret, she decided to try and move things along with a comment.

"Half the people in Roswell are from somewhere else," Maria remarked with a shrug. "So what…?"

"They don't even believe that they're from this planet," Liz stressed at a whisper.

"You got to be kidding, Liz," Maria responded at almost a laugh. "Did they tell you this?"

"No," Liz reacted sharply. "It was in Max's mind."

Maria shook her head at this as a smile spread across her face. She then reached out with both hands and grabbed Liz by the shoulders before voicing her response to this.

"Liz, I know you think Max was in your head," Maria began in a tone full of concern. "But it was a delusion. You were shot. You lost a lot of blood and you nearly died. It was just your mind playing tricks on you."

Liz began shaking her head no before Maria finished. She then jumped in behind Maria's contention with correction for something she said.

"I'm not talking about when I was shot," Liz asserted with a glare. "This happened three weeks ago when I confronted Max at school."

"I don't understand, Liz," Maria professed as she leaned back and gave her a confused look.

"When I went back to school on the first day," Liz explained with a hint of excitement. "I confronted Max and I told him that I wanted to know what he did to me."

"So, he just told you all of this," Maria questioned more than stated.

"No," Liz emphasized at nearly a whisper. "At first he denied everything. But when I threatened to tell someone else, he confessed. And that's when he merged our minds."

"Merged your minds…?" Maria questioned skeptically.

"That's what they call it," Liz explained with a wide-eyed expression.

"So, you merged minds with him here when you were shot, and then again at the school three weeks ago," Maria questioned again in a skeptical tone.

"Yes," Liz stressed with an excited expression.

Maria was still skeptical about what she was hearing and she paused to give Liz a concerned look.

"Have you spoken to someone about this?" Maria questioned gently. "I mean someone like your parents or maybe even your doctor."

"No," Liz retaliated brusquely. "And neither can you."

"Okay," Maria responded defensively. "But this doesn't sound like you, Liz. Do you hear what you're saying?"

"I know how it sounds, Maria," Liz confirmed with an excited expression. "But it's true. They're different from everyone else on the planet. They can do things with their minds that no normal human should be able to do."

Maria gave Liz a confused look as she studied her for signs of delirium. She saw no evidence of this and began considering for the first time that Liz might be telling the truth, as impossible as that sounded to her.

"So, this was the secret that …Max, Isabel and Michael didn't want me talking about," Maria whispered at Liz with a mixture of curiosity and worry in her stare.

"Yes," Liz insisted softly.

Liz paused to study Maria and see if she was beginning to believe what she was saying. Once she saw that Maria was beginning to give her the benefit of the doubt, she quickly spoke again with more argument to support her claim.

"Why do you think Dr. Whitesell has been trying for weeks to get me into his clinic for tests?" Liz questioned with vehemence. "He wants to know how I survived. He's the one who says I should have died on the floor downstairs," Liz harangued with an intense stare. "That …was …Max," Liz declared one word at a time.

Maria went wide-eyed with belief. It all sounded too impossible to believe, but she knew her friend. She knew that Liz was far more sensible and pragmatic than she. Everything about the way she was telling her these things told Maria that Liz was speaking the truth. She sat straight up and disengaged her hands from Liz's. She continued to study Liz with a look of shock as her mind grappled with the enormity of what Liz was suggesting.

"I felt him in my mind, Maria," Liz continued in a less strident delivery. "I felt him keeping me alive …forcing my body to heal itself," Liz concluded with an amazed shake of her head.

Liz began to stare at the empty space between her and Maria as she pondered the memory of what happened that day. After a few seconds of this, she spoke again.

"He saved me," Liz finished with a soft expression. "He saved my life."

"Oh my God," Maria responded a second behind. "You're telling me the truth?"

"Yes, Maria," Liz answered back softly but firmly. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. It wasn't delirium. It was real."

Maria pushed herself off the bed and stood up in a nervous panic.

"They're aliens?" Maria questioned loudly with a shock expression.

Liz was concerned about the volume of Maria's inquiry and responded accordingly.

"They don't know," Liz corrected at close to a whisper. "Max feels different. He feels like he doesn't belong here."

"Just the three of them," Maria questioned in a softer voice? "What about their parents?"

"They're adopted," Liz reported quickly.

"Max and Isabel too," Maria questioned with a stunned expression. "I mean, I heard the delinquent was some kind of foster child or something. But I didn't know that about Max and Isabel."

"Yes," Liz responded excitedly. "And they're all having the same dreams."

"Wait," Maria reacted quickly "How do you know about their dreams?"

"I was in his head, Maria," Liz stressed softly. "They have memories of lights and machines and they think that there's something in the desert whispering to them in their thoughts."

Maria was still hung up on the idea that Liz was in Max's head, or vice versa.

"You were in his mind?" Maria questioned suspiciously. "How do you know he didn't do something to you …brainwash you …or program …or whatever they do?"

"He's not like that," Liz gently denied.

"But you wouldn't know it if he was," Maria contradicted. "I mean that's what he'd want you to think."

Liz understood Maria's concerns and had gone through these concerns herself. She pondered Maria's query for a couple of seconds and then confessed her own thoughts on the matter.

"I won't deny that they can do things and that I've had my worries about it. But I know what they can do and I think I would know if they did it."

"What does that mean?" Maria questioned with an incredulous look.

"They can't be in anyone's mind all the time," Liz began to explain with an earnest expression. "And when they start doing things in people's minds it creates conflicts and memory lapses."

"So," Maria questioned with an amazed look.

"I don't have any of these," Liz insisted. "Besides, if he had tampered with my mind the first thing he would have done was make me forget."

Maria was not sold by this and became slightly more startled by the fact that Liz was.

"Liz, I know you think you know Max, but you don't," Maria lectured vehemently. "If he's an alien, then there's no telling how much different he is from us. As far as we know, he could have green blood."

"They don't have green blood," Liz countered with a smile. "They're like us, biologically."

"And you know this how?" Maria questioned an instant behind.

"Because that was in Max's mind," Liz explained with a hint of a smile.

Maria's concern was not dissuaded by this. She felt it was all the more important to convince Liz of the magnitude of this situation.

"I don't believe you, Liz," Maria began with a shocked expression. "You're telling me that there are aliens attending our school and that we should keep it a secret."

"Yes," Liz emphasized.

"Haven't you asked yourself, why are they here?" Maria questioned with a hint of incredulity.

"They don't even know why they're here," Liz responded back definitively. "There's a rock formation somewhere in the desert that's important to them. They feel that they have to find it. That's all that they know."

"Liz, I really think we should tell someone about this," Maria countered with a serious tone of expression.

"No, Maria," Liz insisted with an alarmed look. "We can't do that. They're terrified of being discovered, locked up, examined …dissected."

"What if there are more of them?" Maria challenged. "Shouldn't someone else…, someone with authority, know about this?"

"They're not here to hurt anyone," Liz insisted.

"Well, maybe they're not," Maria countered apprehensively. "But you don't know about the others."

"There aren't any others," Liz insisted with finality. "It's just Max, Isabel and Michael."

Liz reached out and grabbed Maria by the shoulders. She looked her in the eyes with a stern expression and stressed her next remark with all the passion she could muster.

"We can't tell anyone about them, Maria. Please!"

Ten seconds later, Maria softly responded with, "okay."


	19. Chapter 19 The Assessment

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 19: The Assessment

"This is an interesting story that you've written here, Lieutenant," General William Pittman coolly stated from behind his desk in his office.

Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki was called up to General Pittman's office shortly after he arrived for work. He knew, with almost no doubt whatsoever, why he was being summoned. He had submitted his report on Lieutenant Jill Hytner two days earlier. And he knew that the content of it had made her appear all the more paradoxical. But he could not help this. The enigma of Jill Hytner's life had become an obsession in his mind. He was not prepared to neatly explain it away with some clever writing simply to move on to new business. He suspected he wanted to know the answers at least as much as anyone else, if not more.

Ryan was standing at ease in front of General Pittman's desk when this question was asked. He had been waiting there for three minutes as the General studied the report. He had already read it twice the day before. But the General had his reason for wanting to make the Lieutenant sweat a little.

"Yes Sir," Ryan responded in good military fashion.

General Pittman gave Ryan a stern study for a dozen seconds before turning his attention back to the report in his hands. After another minute of study, he looked up at Ryan with a scowl.

"Are you trying to be funny, Lieutenant?"

"No Sir," Ryan responded without hesitation.

"Then what is this about orphaned children?" General Pittman inquired with a stern expression.

"Sir, I believe these children are important in some way," Ryan countered quickly.

"Important to whom…?" General Pittman inquired with a look of shock.

"Sir, those children seemed to be the only thing that Lieutenant Hytner attached any value to," Ryan explained. "Once she left the Air Force, she led her life almost like a nun. All of the things that she wanted and spent her life working towards, up until then, were abandoned. Those children seemed to be the only thing that I could find that meant anything to her."

"The trouble is, Lieutenant, you didn't find these kids," General Pittman tossed the report on his desk. "From what I'm reading here, I can't tell if these kids are real or just a figment of someone's imagination."

"Sir, the children are real," Ryan insisted in anxious tone of voice. "I've verified their existence with three people who were there at the time."

"You're not getting my point," General Pittman spoke up quickly. "Why should the United States Air Force give a damn about fourteen, two year old, orphans?"

Ryan hesitated to respond to this. After a second of thought he gave the only answer that seemed to fit the question.

"I don't know, Sir."

General sat back in his chair and gave Ryan another study. After a few seconds he continued with his interview.

"Lieutenant, are you unhappy with your job?"

Ryan was thrown off balance by the question. His first thought was to wonder what this question had to do with his report. His second thought was that he was about to be transferred out. After two seconds of thought, he fumbled out the answer he thought appropriate.

"I don't have any problems with my job, General Pittman."

"The reason I ask," General Pittman pressed on, "is because most young officers who come to Investigative Analysis for the first time tend to have grand ideas about what the job entails. And then once they get here, they become disappointed by the reality. Are you disappointed, Lieutenant Kawecki?"

Ryan considered the question for a second and then answered it with reluctant honesty.

"I confess that I was expecting something a little more challenging."

"And I suspect now that you've been here for a while, you're entertaining ideas about transferring into another department within the Defense Intelligence Agency."

"Sir, I have no plans for submitting a request for a transfer for at least two years," Ryan responded defensively.

"And between now and then you want to make a good impression," General Pittman suggested back suddenly.

"I don't understand, Sir," Ryan spoke back with a hint of confusion.

"I'm talking about turning little assignments into big deals," General Pittman asserted back.

Ryan was offended by the suggestion that he would puff up a report in an attempt to make himself look good. His stance became a little more erect when he realized what he was suggesting. This was a practice that Ryan knew he was incapable of. He was always conscientious about any task given to him. And he was never satisfied with a final product until he thought it was exemplary.

"Sir, the report is accurate and it reflects my analysis that there is an unknown event in Lieutenant Hytner's life that caused her to deviate from the plans she had for herself."

Ryan gave this assertion with an almost fierce determination.

General Pittman paused to give Ryan a brief, sober, study. This new defiant posture gave him cause to reconsider his thinking.

"So, Lieutenant Kawecki," General Pittman began calmly. "You think it is worth the Air Force's time and expense to dig up the life of an ex nurse and find out what made her tick?"

"Sir, with all due respect," Ryan began staunchly. "I don't know why the Air Force is interested in an ex Air Force nurse at all. I was given an assignment and I fulfilled it to the best of my abilities. If the Air Force doesn't want to waste any more time examining Lieutenant Jill Hytner's life, that's okay with me. I have no problem with moving on to a new assignment."

General Pittman had heard enough and came to a conclusion. He leaned forward onto his desk and looked gravely at Ryan for a few seconds. At the end of this time he annunciated his thinking.

"Okay, Lieutenant, let's get it done," General Pittman decreed in an off the cuff manner.

Ryan was baffled by this remark. He had no idea what General Pittman was saying to him or how to react about it.

"I don't understand, Sir," Ryan responded with a questioning stare.

General Pittman showed no reaction to the remark as he pulled open the center drawer of his desk. He removed a thin white envelope from the drawer and extended it to Ryan.

"Here are your orders, Lieutenant," General Pittman announced frankly. "Tomorrow you have a nine AM appointment with Special Agent Ford. We have arranged for the FBI to help you find out everything there is to know about these fourteen kids. When you collect this information, report back to me."

"I thought this was a waste of time," Ryan questioned as he took the envelope.

"It probably is," General Pittman responded as he began reorganizing his desk for new business. "But now I know you're not wasting my time."

As the General pulled a thin file out of the inbox on his desk and opened it, he gave his last instruction to Ryan. "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

Ryan left General Pittman's office more curious than ever about Lieutenant Jill Hytner and these fourteen children that she considered so important.


	20. Chapter 20 Obsession

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 20: Obsession

Liz Parker was convinced that she had reached the apex of her existence. She could not imagine anything in her future that could rival her fascination for Max Evans. She spent the bulk of her time at school thinking of ways to insinuate herself into his life only to renege on the plan out of fear of embarrassing herself. This preoccupation was having a negative effect on her grades. This did not miss the notice of her teachers, who were accustomed to seeing only A's from Liz. They, in turn, brought it to the attention of Liz's parents.

"Honey, I know you've been through a lot," Nancy Parker supplicated softly. "But your grades are important and you need to try and get back to where you were scholastically."

"I know, Mom," Liz responded with a nod of her head. "I'll try."

"Your teachers say that you seem distracted," Nancy continued. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"No, Mom," Liz quickly denied. "I'm fine, really."

"Because you can talk to me about anything," Nancy continued to encourage. "I'm always here for you."

"I'm fine, Mom, really," Liz continued to insist.

Nancy and Jeff Parker had both noted only one difference, of any significance, in their daughter since the shooting. And this was her loss of interest in Kyle Valenti. They had always known that she was not overly infatuated with him. But they were accustomed to seeing her work at the relationship she shared with him. However, since her return home from the hospital, her only interest regarding Kyle seemed to be about avoiding him.

Jeff and Nancy Parker did not know how to feel about Liz's break up with Kyle. They had never in the past given any importance to her having a boyfriend. Helping Liz fulfill her future ambitions was their primary concern. They asked what had happen between her and Kyle, more so out of curiosity than concern. She told them that being shot caused her to rethink her priorities. This was enough to satisfy their interest on this matter. In the back of their minds, Kyle was always perceived, by them, as a distraction and possibly a threat to their daughter's future.

Mr. and Mrs. Parker did not become seriously concerned about Liz until the school contacted them about her slipping grades. Before this they chose not to overreact to Liz's dip in her grade point average. It had been their belief that she would return to her usual academic excellence when she was back to full health. The call from Liz's home room teacher changed all of this. For the first time since her return to school, Jeff and Nancy were making a serious study of their daughter's emotional state of mine.

Liz's emotional state was under study by one other person, Kyle Valenti. Since their break-up Kyle kept a steady watch on Liz Parker. He always suspected that there was some external event that was responsible for her decision to separate from him. The fact that he could find no clear evidence of this made him all the more suspicious. He anticipated Max Evans to replace him immediately after the split. But the relationship between him and Liz continued to be distant and awkward, very much to Kyle's surprise. He could not help but believe that Max was at the core of Liz's sudden change in behavior. This supposition was supported, in Kyle's mind, by the fact that the two of them could not keep their eyes off one another.

There was only one person, outside of Liz herself, who knew all of what was going on with her, and that was Maria De Luca. As Liz's oldest and closest friend, Maria held her confidence in most things happening in her life. Outside of school, they spent much of their waking time together. And during most of this time they spoke about one thing.

"I don't know why he insists on avoiding me," Liz complained more than inquired. "I mean it's not like we don't have a history."

"You know, Liz," Maria began tactfully. "I really think this might be a good thing."

"There's nothing good about this," Liz rifled back with barely a thought. "It's awkward and silly and it's rude. That's what it is, it's rude. It's not like he has any secrets from me. You'd think he would have the courtesy to just talk to me once and while, instead acting like I'm not even there."

Maria took no offense from the outburst. She could see that Liz was simply thinking out loud. She waited patiently for Liz to finish her tirade and then she tried, again, to back Liz away from this position.

"You know, Liz," Maria spoke up softly. "I don't think it's healthy for you to be this preoccupied about Max. I mean after all he is an illegal alien. He might get deported one of these days."

"I know, I know," Liz conceded with a shake of her head.

Liz thought about it for two seconds more and then rationalized a different perspective from the one that Maria was suggesting.

"But I'm not preoccupied. I'm interested. There's a difference."

"Come on, Liz," Maria responded with sarcasm. "You spend almost every afternoon in the library searching through pictures of rocks just so you can find something to talk to him about."

"I'm just trying to help him find this rock formation that he keeps dreaming about," Liz defended with a hint of desperation.

"And that's not being preoccupied?" Maria questioned sarcastically.

"No …it's …it's …okay, maybe I'm a little preoccupied," Liz admitted reluctantly.

"Thank you," Maria responded in an exasperated tone of voice. "Progress at last."

"Okay," Liz relented. "I'll try to put the illegal alien out of my mind. I promised my parents that I'd get my grades back up anyway."

"You mean the perfect Liz Evans is no longer a straight A-student?" Maria questioned mockingly.

"It just that it all seems so unimportant now," Liz suggested somberly.

"What, you think your space boy is going to whisk you away in his flying saucer?" Maria jokingly asked.

"No," Liz responded with a grin. After a few seconds of reflection, she added an addendum to that response. "Well, maybe a little."

Both she and Maria got a good laugh out of that idea.

"I know," Liz continued over her desire to laugh. "The whole thing is so ridiculous. But I can't stop wondering, what if."

"Yeah, well what you should be wondering about," Maria spoke with a large smile, "is how you're going to like flipping burgers next to your dad for the next forty years."

Again, Maria and Liz laughed out loud for several seconds.

"You're mean," Liz grinned back.

"Hey, I'm just doing my job as your best friend," Maria retorted with a grin. "You need to keep your eyes on the prize."

"Which prize is that," Liz longingly mused.

"Oh, no you don't," Maria reacted sternly. "Don't go there. Just because he's good looking and mysterious, way mysterious, that doesn't mean he can't be a creep. You need to keep things in perspective."

"I've been in his head, Maria," Liz retaliated excitedly. "He's not a creep," she continued fondly. "He's nice."

"Okay, Liz," Maria responded with both hands waving out in front of her. "You're creeping me out here. I can't even imagine being in some boys head."

"It was interesting," Liz began to explain softly. "It was not like I was in his head or he was in mine. We became one person, a different person."

"Ooh!" Maria responded with a look of disgust on her face. "I don't want to hear anymore. You can tell Max for me, if I ever get shot just let me go."

"You're being silly, Maria," Liz responded with a laugh.

"Yeah, well I don't know how you can be around any of them," Maria responded with a shocked expression. "They can poke around in your mind and move things with their thoughts. I have a hard enough time just being in the same room with them. Sometimes, I think I can feel them moving around in my head."

"Max swore to me they would never do that," Liz defended resolutely.

"Maybe he did, but what about Isabel and Michael," Maria complained with exaggerated panic. "Every time I see either one of them they're giving me the evil eye."

"That's just the way they are," Liz explained nonchalantly. "They don't mean anything by it."

"And you know this because you were in Max's head," Maria mocked.

"Yes," Liz confirmed.

"Okay, but if I find out that either one of us is under some kind of spell…"

"We're not under a spell," Liz quickly refuted.

"I'm just saying," Maria continued. "All promises are revoked."

"If we were being manipulated," Liz explained with a look of exasperation. "Then we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"Okay," Maria conceded. "So, we have our own minds?"

"Yes," Liz responded decisively.

"And we have our own thoughts?" Maria questioned confidently.

"Yes," Liz confirmed sternly.

"And we're not going to obsess over Max anymore?" Maria questioned with a look.

"Absolutely not," Liz agreed stoutly.

"Okay then," Maria began in an upbeat tone. "What's the plan for this afternoon?"

Liz hesitated to answer just long enough to transition her demeanor from one of confidence to an expression of regret.

"Ah, I was planning to spend a couple of hours at the library today."

"Aw, Liz…!"


	21. Chapter 21 Detective Kyle

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 21: Detective Kyle

"What's wrong?" Jim Valenti inquired of his son, Kyle, shortly after he came through the front door of their home.

It was after six o'clock in the evening. Kyle had spent nearly all of the afternoon at football practice. As usual, Jim was seated on the living-room sofa watching the news on the television.

"Oh nothing, I'm just tired I guess," Kyle answered somberly as he shut the front door behind him.

Kyle promptly set off for his room with his backpack and football gear in tow.

"Was it a rough practice?" Jim called out to his son as he walked away.

"No more than usual I guess." Kyle responded without giving it any thought.

This was an unusual inquiry for Jim. He and Kyle had a nonverbal relationship, for the most part. Their conversations were invariably brief and instructional. They were two males who were not given to gossip, or to sharing their thoughts and feelings about anything they had no particular interest in. The bond that held them the closest was sports. They would watch most televised team sporting events together and debate the relative merits of the teams in length.

"Then what's wrong?" Jim inquired when Kyle walked into the kitchen. He muted the television in anticipation of his response.

"I told you, Dad. I'm tired," Kyle answered as he retrieved the carryout meal that was being kept warm in the oven.

Cooking their own evening meal was something that the Valentis had not done for more than three years, when Susan Valenti, Kyle's mother, was still alive. The routine that they had lived by since was for one them to stop at a restaurant and bring home dinner for two. Because of Kyle's football practice sessions, and the games they were for, Jim was pressed into doing this during most week days.

Susan Valenti was the family member who made their house a home. Having and maintaining a family was her fondest wish. She and Jim were fiercely in love and Kyle was always the perfect addition to their family. He identified with his father's fiercely masculine demeanor, but he basked in the love and affection of his mother. Her passing was a shock, but not a surprise, to them both. Susan Valenti had been fighting the cancer that killed her for nearly a decade. Kyle had never gotten over the loss of her. He simply learned how to endure it.

"I talked to your coach before your last game," Jim called out over his shoulder. "He says you've been distracted all season."

"I've had a few things on my mind," Kyle explained absentmindedly. "It'll pass."

Kyle took his plate and a can of soda into the dining area and sat at the table facing the television. Jim retrieved his soft drink from off the coffee table as he got up. He then walked around the sofa and took a seat at the table at the right end from Kyle.

"A few things, you mean like Liz," Jim nudged?

Kyle hesitated to answer this inquiry as he gave his father a look. He comprehended for the first time that Jim had an agenda behind these questions. He contemplated what this might be for a moment before deciding to reveal his thinking about Liz.

"She's been acting strange, Dad. This has been going on since before the break-up. I don't know what's happening with her and it's bothering me."

Jim's only concern here was the well-being of his son. He had hopes that Kyle would win a football scholarship and go on to play for a Division One College team. This was all simply a matter of pride for him. There was never any doubt in his mind that Kyle would go to college. He had been making financial preparations for this since before he was born. Jim simply hoped that his son would surpass the ambitions that he once had for himself. He was not going to let the distraction of a broken heart get in the way of this without a fight.

"She's been through something that most people will never experience," Jim rationalized for Kyle. "Being shot is a pretty traumatic event. It can take a little while to get over it."

"I know Liz, Dad," Kyle sharply countered. "She's not some frail little flower. She bounced back just fine."

Kyle's sudden defense of Liz's state of mind caught Jim by surprise. He took a second to study his son with a look of confusion before responding to his assertion.

"I thought you said she was acting different?"

"Yes, she has. But not in the way you're thinking," Kyle corrected. "Not even in the way that I would expect. She's just being weird."

Once again, Jim was confused by what Kyle was saying. His concern was that Kyle was hurting over the loss of Liz. But his words were suggesting that he was simply worried for Liz. After a moment of thought he could only conclude that his son had reasoned a way for his preoccupation with Liz to be her fault and not his.

"Kyle, I know that being rejected by a girl that you like can be painful," Jim counseled in a concerned tone of voice. "It's happened to me more than once. But it's normal. After a while, someone else catches your eye and life goes on."

Kyle was immediately put out, to a small degree, by what he considered to be a patronizing speech. He briefly gave his father a look of exasperation before giving a laconic reply.

"That's not what's going on here. This is different."

"It always feels different," Jim quickly retorted in defense of his thinking.

"You're not getting it," Kyle declared with finality and a shake of his head.

"Okay than, how is it different?" Jim questioned with relenting sarcasm.

Kyle could see that his father was predisposed to think that he was fabricating this situation with Liz in his mind. After a second of thought he decided to try and end the whole conversation.

"That's alright, Dad. Don't worry about it," Kyle spoke an instant before shoving some food in his mouth.

"No, I want to know. Explain it to me," Jim encouraged with a wave of his hand. "How is this different?"

Mildly annoyed by the conversation, Kyle relented, hesitantly, to his father's request.

"Well, there's this guy at school, Max Evans. And he and Liz are acting real funny around each other."

"Max Evans, why do I know that name?" Jim pondered aloud.

"He was with Liz at the Crash-Down that day," Kyle apprised a second behind the query.

"Okay, I remember now," Jim recalled with an affirmative nod of his head. "Well I guess that's normal. I mean he did save her life."

"But it's not normal, Dad," Kyle asserted quietly as he ruminated about them. "At least not in the way that they're acting, it's not. She likes him. I know she does. But she won't admit it, despite the fact that she can't keep her eyes off of him."

"And what makes it even stranger," Kyle continued with a look of incredulity. "He likes her too."

"Has he told you that?" Jim questioned as he studied his son.

"That's just it, he doesn't have too," Kyle responded excitedly. "He can't keep his eyes off of her. They just walk around pretending like they don't see each other."

"It sounds to me like this is a good thing," Jim offered optimistically. "After a while she'll probably get over this infatuation and forget all about this Max Evans."

"I don't think so, Dad. Liz doesn't get infatuated. She's not like that," Kyle continued reflectively. "She knows what she wants for her life and she goes after it. She doesn't get distracted from what's important to her."

"It sounds like you've given this a lot of thought," Jim softly suggested.

"I like Liz, Dad," Kyle declared. "And I think something, not normal, is going on between her and Max."

"You have any evidence to back that up, Detective?" Jim questioned humorously.

"Yeah, Dad, I know," Kyle reacted with a smile and a shrug. "It sounds ridiculous."

Kyle took a few seconds to act out his exasperation at being mocked by his father. After shaking his head a few times and waving his hands in surrender, he elected to give his father the last bit of bizarre information he had.

"Well if you think that's funny then this is really going to be hilarious. There's talk going around the school that Max did more than just stop Liz from bleeding to death. Rumor is that he used some kind of magical power to bring her back to life."

To his surprise, Jim was not as amused by this at all. He recalled his detectives telling him that Liz should have died within a few minutes of being shot. A recollection of Max in his blood stained clothes caused him to ponder if Max Evans could have done something more than just stem the flow of blood.


	22. Chapter 22 The Reluctant Prima Donna

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 22: The Reluctant Prima Donna

Isabel Evans was a slender and shapely five-foot ten-inch tall blonde. And she was easily perceived, by an overwhelming majority of the Roswell student body, as one of the prettiest girls in the school. Her quiet manner and scornful glances towards others made most students at Roswell High School believe that she did not like them. The truth was she never wanted to be too close to them. She feared the secret that she guarded about herself would bleed through in any close personal relationship.

Life began for Isabel the day she was adopted by Phillip and Diane Evans. Prior to this event she could only recall vague images, lights, shadows of people moving about her, the sound of children in the background and a vague image of a woman's face. All of this existed as some abstract collage in the back of her mind. Her fixed memory of people, places and things that she was familiar with began with Phillip and Diane. Specific recollections of any person, place or event prior to her adoption was oddly missing.

Phillip and Diane were told at the time of the adoption that Max and Isabel were orphaned children from out of Eastern Europe. And that this was the reason behind their incomprehension of English at a minimal level, as well as the cause behind their hauntingly quiet stares. In reality, their human lives began two weeks earlier and everything they saw, felt, tasted and heard was new to them. Had it not been for the dreams that Isabel and Max were piecing together by the age of five, they might have easily believed that Phillip and Diane were their biological parents.

Isabel and Max were seven when they approached their parents with the question, "are we adopted?" Phillip and Diane were not overly shocked by this. They had, by then, grown accustomed to the very bright intellects that their two adoptees had. When they first brought them home, Phillip and Diane considered the possibility that they would know the answer to this from memories of their birth parents, given that they had aged two years before coming to them. But within a few short months after the adoption, all the indications were that they were the only parents that they knew. Phillip and Diane embraced the opportunity to fill this void in their lives unencumbered by an adoption acting as a possible divide between them and their children. Despite this concern, they told Max and Isabel the truth when asked and watched them assimilate the information as casually as if it was a bedtime story.

Isabel adored her parents and they adored her. All of her memories regarding Phillip and Diane reinforced her feeling of being loved and protected by them. From nearly the first day of their union, Isabel basked in the warmth of this affection. Home was wherever they were and she was thrilled to be their little girl. She gave no weight or thought to the fact that she was adopted. She had no other memories of her life to compare Phillip and Diane against. She was completely happy to be where she was, and she had no desire to be anywhere else.

At eight years of age, Isabel and Max began to realize that they were different from other people. They thought nothing of this at the time. This difference felt like a normal extension of who they were. They did feel a need to hide this difference from others. But even in this it was more a reflex action than a thought of deception. Their preoccupation during this time was little different than any other eight year old. Having fun while they learned about their world was on their schedule of things to do each morning they got up. And when it came to learning, they were far more adept than their peers. Over the next several years, they lived their lives with no regard for their extraordinary talents.

It was at the age of twelve that their notice of their difference became a wonder and then a worry for them. They gradually became cognizant of the enormity of this variation between them and everyone else. Because of this awareness, Isabel began to entertain thoughts that someone outside of the family might separate her from her parents. Suddenly a need to blend in with the other children became a matter of importance for her and for Max. Denying that they had these extraordinary talents was no longer enough. They had reached the awareness that they had to hide them from sight. It did not matter to Isabel who or what she was, or where she came from. Holding on to this life was the most important thing. And being separated from her parents was not an option.

Blending in with the amalgamation of children at school and in the neighborhood had been an easy enough task to effect during the preteen years of Isabel and Max. The children freely associated with each other without regard for any differences between them. They had only to join into their play of the whole. Starting around the age of thirteen the intellect of their peers began to complicate this practice of hiding within the whole. As the children around Isabel and Max started dividing into separate associations based upon social, political, philosophical and economical divides, they found themselves increasingly being forced to bond with this side or that. For Isabel, bonding with anyone outside of her family was something she preferred not to do.

Maintaining a reclusive deportment was an easy enough solution to this problem. This was the demeanor that Max and Michael both chose. But in this they had each other. Isabel had no one of her own sex to share her isolation with. On top of this, she found this façade to be diametrically opposed to who she was. It was not long into her effort to find a work around for this that she found an acceptable solution. She allowed herself to be drawn into a clique of friends that maintained a shallow and impersonal relationship with one-another.

Sara Lange, Allison Frazier and Emilie Porter were three attractive young ladies, of Isabel's age, who associated exclusively among themselves. Isabel turned down several requests that she join their quorum before finally relenting to the invite. She was at first reluctant to be part of such a close-knit group. But this resistance dissolved away when she learned how disconnected they were with each other. Isabel determined, after two weeks of trial, that she could easily hide within this circle of the purely superficial. There were no secrets given in confidence. There were no confessionals required for acceptance. The whole of their relationships were based around their physical appearance and most especially their attire.

Of the three of them Sara Lange was the only one who was on a par with Isabel in aesthetics. Being extremely attractive was not the link that held them together. What they had most in common, and what was the nexus of their association, was the lifestyle they enjoyed, compliments of their well to do parents. This, above all else, was the requirement necessary for admittance within their group. Isabel gave no importance to the frivolous nature of their society. She was too busy being happy about having a society to hide among. This happiness exuded itself in smiles and flirtatious remarks directed at anyone who crossed her path.

It was around the start of Isabel's sophomore year of high school when this superficial existence lost all of its appeal for her. Her need to be close to someone and to share a bond of friendship had been suppressed to near the straining point. There were several students within Roswell High School that she would have enjoyed being in just such a relationship with. Not least of among these were Liz Evans and Maria De Luca. She envied them their camaraderie and resented them for making her feel so. The more she wanted what they had the angrier she got at the rest of the world. From her sophomore year forward, Isabel was seemingly in a perpetual foul mood. She scowled at everyone and rarely had anything nice to say. For many she had a reputation for being a bitch. Only to Max and Michael was she thought of as the reluctant prima donna.


	23. Chapter 23 Buttinskies

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 23: Buttinskies

It was March of the next year and Kyle Valenti was in the middle of his second most favorite sport, baseball. He had, by this time, become accustomed to Liz's and Max's unusual non relationship. And he had moved on to a new romantic entanglement for himself. Sara Lange had shown an interest in him in the past. He chose not to reciprocate this interest because of his affinity for Liz. However, due to the loss of his first choice, Sara Lange became the new apple of his eye.

Kyle was not overly taken with his choice of female companionship. He found Sara to be shallow and slightly annoying. Where he was studious and driven, she was lazy and self-important. The only thing that qualified her to be at his side was her looks. Kyle was very much attracted to her physically. And he hoped, secretly, that Liz would become jealous at the sight of him with her. In actuality she was quite to the contrary regarding Kyle's new romantic interest. She was happy to see that Kyle had a new infatuation. This emboldened her to be even more conspicuous about her friendship with Max. She began greeting him when they passed in the hall and she maneuvered a seat next to him in biology. However, despite these tiny social adjustments, Max continued to remain aloof with regards to her.

This distance, Max was maintaining, was not a reflection of how he felt. More than anything, he wanted to be with Liz. It was his concern for Isabel and Michael, and very much for Liz as well, that was compelling him to avoid a romantic relationship. Max did not know where his life was going or how things would end up for him. The only thing that he knew for sure was that something, seemingly alien to this world, was calling to him when he slept. He suspected that one day he would find who or what this was. And that the answers to his existence would be revealed with this discovery. His greatest fear, with regards to this prospect, was that all of his earthly attachments would be sacrificed in favor of a designed future that was planned out for him.

"I need to do this," Liz announced to herself more so than Maria.

"I thought you were going to show it to him in biology?" Maria queried with a confused expression.

As usual for this period, the cafeteria was sparsely populated with senior and junior class students. Kyle and half a dozen jocks, both junior and senior class members, were situated in a far corner having a raucous good time while they ate. Populating the center of the room, at half a dozen different tables, was a mixture of senior and junior class girls and those few boys who felt comfortable intermingling with them. Liz and Maria were situated at the edge of this mixture, one table removed from their closes neighbor. Isabel and her three close friends were in the heart of this mix, laughing and mingling, off and on, with a dozen other people within this cluster. Max and Michael were situated near the opposing corner from Kyle, in an area that was sparsely populated with either solitary or a near solitary collection of students.

"We can't talk there. It has to be here," Liz explained to Maria about what happened to her plan to speak to Max in their biology class.

"What's there to talk about? Just show it to him," Maria countered with a, what's the big deal, look.

"No, Maria, we need to exchange thoughts," Liz corrected with a shocked expression.

"Really, Liz," Maria responded sarcastically. "You're trying to act like you're one of them."

"No I'm not," Liz answered defensively. "I'm just trying to be a friend," she continued casually after a moment of reflection to find the words and the appropriate manner to express them.

"I think you need to take the hint," Maria replied dryly.

"What hint? There's no hint, Maria," Liz quickly reacted. "He thinks he's protecting me. But I don't need protecting."

"Whatever," Maria answered back mockingly a second before skewering some string beans and inserting them into her mouth.

"You ready?" Liz softly inquired with a look of excitement.

Maria was caught off guard by this question. She suddenly looked up from her plate with an expression of alarm on her face.

"What, I'm not going over there," Maria insisted with an inflection of finality.

"You have to," Liz insisted.

"I don't have anything to show him," Maria countered bluntly.

"Maria, he's over there with Michael," Liz quietly stressed with a stern expression. "I need you to help make everything look normal."

"Hey, I don't have anything to say to that delinquent from Mars," Maria countered flatly.

"Michael isn't that bad," Liz replied softly. "I think he's just in a bad mood all the time because of problems at home."

"Please," Maria countered with exasperation. "What problems could he be having?"

"Well for one thing, his father is a drunk, Maria," Liz promptly explained under her breath. "I think his father ran his business nearly into the ground. At least that's the impression I got from Max. And his mother ran off with another man. And that's when he started beating Michael," she stressed in even a softer voice. "Michael's room is in the attic. He lives up there so he doesn't have to be around his dad. Max and Isabel have been taking care of him for years."

Maria gave Liz a suspicious look as she pondered this report from her. Three seconds later she reacted to it with a question.

"You got all of this out of Max's head?"

"Yeah, well it's common knowledge to Max," Liz answered reflectively. "So, I guess that makes it common knowledge to me now."

"Do you have all his memories?" Maria whispered anxiously.

"No," Liz replied passively with an introspective look. "I mean, when we were together I knew I could access his memories if I wanted to. But they didn't transfer over to me, you understand?"

"No," Maria stressed with an exaggerated expression.

"I remember what he was generally aware of at the time," Liz instructed in a hushed voice. "It's like; who he is was right there on the surface. But specific memories …I think I would have had to think about something specific to bring that to the surface …I mean, I knew I could access them …it was like they were a part of me. But they just weren't on the surface…"

Liz was still pondering this subject when Maria jumped in hysterically.

"Okay, enough with the interspecies talk. My dreams are weird enough right now," Maria insisted with a shake of her head. "There's still something wrong with space-boy over there."

"There's nothing wrong with Michael," Liz whispered at Maria. "Who knows, you might like him if you took the time to know him."

"No way, Liz" Maria reacted with theatrical alarm. "There is no way I could ever like Michael Guerin," Maria insisted emphatically. "Do you remember when I sat next to you for the first time in fourth grade?" Maria inquired with a stern expression.

Liz took a second to think about this before responding with a, "yes."

"I did that to get away from him," Maria exclaimed under her breath. "He kept tugging at my hair and hitting me with little bits of paper. I'm telling you, there's something wrong with him."

"Oh please," Liz reacted with a so what look. "A lot of boys did that back then."

"And they're all nuts," Maria retaliated an instant behind.

"Are you coming with me or not?" Liz whispered her question with a stern emphasis.

"Okay, okay," Maria agreed with a look of exasperation.

After taking a moment to marshal her courage, Liz gathered up her tray and the book lying next to it and got up from her seat. Maria, reluctantly, did as well and followed Liz's lead across the cafeteria. Before they got halfway to their destination, Michael noted their approach and reported same to Max.

"All hell, here comes trouble," Michael grumbled under his breath.

"What?" Max inquired as he looked back over his shoulder.

Max took a second to see Liz and Maria coming their way before looking back to Michael with a stern stare.

"Be nice, Michael."

"When am I not nice?" Michael countered with a look of surprise.

"Michael," Max admonished with a word. "The worse thing we can do is act like we don't want them here."

Michael had no response to this other than to sit back in his seat and wait for the inevitable with a look of incredulity.

"Hi, Max," Liz greeted as she set her tray and book down on the table next to where he was sitting.

Trying not to look conspicuous, Liz quickly sat herself in the chair next to Max.

"Hi," Max greeted back nicely.

Maria walked around the table and set her tray down across from Liz and next to Michael.

"Be nice," Maria instructed Michael curtly as she sat down beside him.

Michael's only reaction was to shake his head in disbelief. Isabel and Kyle noted this seating change with surreptitious looks out the corner of their eyes.

"Max, I remembered something that you …_told_ me before," Liz began tentatively. "And I found something about it that I think you should see."

Liz began maneuvering the book between her and Max just as she finished her statement. Michael noted the title, "Images of New Mexico," and quickly perked up with a surprised look.

"Really, Liz," Michael spoke up before Liz could continue. "You think you're going to find what we're looking for in a book."

"I just thought it might be better than spending your weekends driving around all day." Liz explained her thinking in an unsure tone of voice.

"We tried that," Max advised with a soft smile.

"We're not going to see everything by looking in books," Michael quietly spouted. "We tried that and it didn't work," he finished sternly.

"Hey," Maria jumped in protectively. "Just because it didn't work for you doesn't mean it won't work."

"Yes it does," Michael rifled back with an irritated look towards Maria. "It was a waste of time. Every time we found something that looked like it could be it, we would spend the whole day searching for it only to find out that we were wrong."

"Liz, I know you're just trying to help," Max began politely. "But Michael and I have been doing this for a while…"

"Hey, you can at least look at the picture," Maria asserted towards Max from across the table.

"Look, Buttinsky," Michael jumped in. "We've looked at thousands of pictures. Only a fraction of New Mexico is represented in pictures and we can't get a good read off of pictures anyway."

"Buttinsky," Maria questioned tersely?

"So what do you do, Max?" Liz questioned softy. "You just drive around looking?"

"We have a search grid," Max explained nicely. "On most weekends, Michael and I will hike one of these grids that we've mapped out. This way we're not missing anything."

"What if this place you're looking for is too far away to travel to in a day?" Liz questioned back. "You can't search the whole state."

"We kind of feel that it's somewhere nearby," Max responded thoughtfully.

Liz accepted this answer with a studied look into Max's eyes.

"Okay, so are you both satisfied that we know what we're doing?" Michael jumped in brusquely.

Maria took immediate offense to the tenor of the remark more than the words.

"So, just look at the picture so we can go," Maria sharply retaliated.

"Yeah, Max," Liz began anxiously as she pushed the book in front of him. "I came across this picture and it reminded me of what I saw that day," she explained as she opened the book to the location marked by a piece of paper protruding from the top.

Max looked at the picture with no expectation one way or the other. But as he continued to study it, his interest grew more and more. After several seconds, Michael noted his intrigue.

"What is it, Max?" Michael questioned with a hint of alarm.

"Michael, look at this," Max instructed as he turned the book around.

Michael studied the picture with growing intrigue. After a dozen seconds of silence, he verbalized his response.

"We have to go there, Max," Michael instructed with urgency.

"Look at where it's at," Max retorted quickly.

"I don't care, Max," Michael sternly overruled. "We have to go there."

"No, Michael," Max sharply countered under his breath. "Not now. It's too dangerous."

"It's always going to be dangerous," Michael argued back. "Max, this could be it. We can't just leave it alone."

"That's exactly what we're going to do," Max answered back in a definitive voice. "It's too far away and it might not be it. You know how pictures are. We've seen dozens of pictures that felt right. But every time we went there, it turned out to be nothing."

"Not like this one," Michael quickly countered.

"No, Michael," Max calmly instructed. "Let's just see if we can get some more pictures of this area. But for now we'll just keep searching locally. If we haven't found anything better by summer break we can talk about it again."

This statement infuriated Michael. He pushed himself up onto his feet with one quick motion. His attention did not deviate from Max's face.

"This could be it, Max," Michael declared with intensity. "Every minute we spend exploring someplace else could be a waste of time. Maybe you wouldn't be so willingly to wait if your life wasn't so perfect," he finished an instant before storming away.

Max, Liz, Kyle and Isabel watched him storm out of the cafeteria with looks of either concern or curiosity. Maria watched him leave with a whole new regard.


	24. Chapter 24 Alien Abduction

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 24: Alien Abduction

"Hey," Michael called out to Maria an instant after she set her left foot out of her car.

The sight of Michael standing just outside of her driver's side door caught Maria by surprise. She balked at standing up from the shock of him standing there. Michael had been waiting by a telephone poll on the opposite side of the alley for Maria to arrive and park in her usual spot. He walked over to her door the instant she stopped her car.

"What do you want," Maria questioned with bravado as she rose to full stance.

Maria was more than a little intimidated by his presence there, but she was doing her best not to show it.

"I need you to do me a favor," Michael announced as he held the car door open with his left hand.

"Me …the buttinsky…?" Maria responded with a hint of arrogance as she stood her ground, less than a foot away, and looked Michael directly in the eyes.

"Yes, you," Michael answered with an inflection of exasperation. "I need to borrow your car," Michael finished with a direct delivery.

Maria was surprised by this request. It was the last thing she expected. She hesitated only long enough to get over the shock and then she answered emphatically.

"No, you can't borrow my car. I need my car."

"No you don't," Michael insisted. "You're going to be in the café all day," Michael instructed forcefully.

"I'm not letting you borrow my car," Maria insisted again with a, you must be crazy, inflection.

"Look, I'll bring it back to by the end of the day," Michael explained as if this was no big deal. "I'll even put gas in it."

"And how am I supposed to get home after my shift?" Maria questioned with a stunned expression.

"Walk," Michael replied definitively. "It's not that far."

"I got a better idea," Maria responded sarcastically. "You walk."

Michael had his mind made up from the beginning that he was going to get Maria's car. He hoped that she would loan it to him. But he did not have a lot of faith that this would happen. Once he was convinced that Maria was not going to oblige him, Michael defaulted to his alternate plan. With one quick motion he snatched the keys from Maria's hand.

"Hey!" Maria called out the instant that he did this.

"I'm sorry," Michael declared as he slid quickly into the driver's seat of her 1992 Volkswagen Jetta. "But I need your car."

"Michael, you're not taking my car," Maria insisted as she watched him pick through her assortment of keys.

"I'll give it back to you this afternoon," Michael insisted as he began removing the car key from the ring.

"You're stealing my car," Maria stated in a shocked voice.

"Here," Michael instructed as he extended the ring of keys towards her, minus the car key.

Maria declined to accept the keys by taking a stubborn stance and crossing her arms.

"Michael, you can't have my car," Maria declared with finality.

"Fine," Michael responded with a flare of indifference.

Michael tossed the keys into the middle of the alley and then closed the car door. Maria noted this with a look of surprise. A second later when Michael began cranking the car motor, Maria's surprise expression turned to shock. A second behind this, she ran over to her keys and snatched them off the ground. She then ran around the back end of the car and up to the car's passenger door. Acting quickly, she opened the door and jumped into the passenger seat. Michael still had not started the car despite a persistent effort. He stopped trying the instant Maria climbed into the car.

"Get out," Michael ordered flatly.

"I'm not getting out of this car, Michael," Maria retaliated defiantly.

Michael took a moment to give her an exasperated look and then he went back to cranking the engine.

"You're flooding it," Maria sneered.

Michael continued to ignore her as he cranked the engine. After another ten seconds the engine rumbled to a start.

"This is grand theft auto, Buddy," Maria exclaimed with a glare.

"Last chance to get out," Michael announced with a blank look towards Maria.

Maria gave no reply to this other than to sit back in her seat, fold her arms and stare straight ahead. A few seconds later, Michael put the car into gear and began driving off.

"Now you're kidnaping me," Maria announced in a panicked voice.

Michael ignored this assertion and drove off at a hurried pace. They drove on in silence for another five minutes before Maria thought to inquire about their destination.

"I'm going to see that outcrop," Michael answered her inquiry with an almost angry tone of voice.

They were by then on the highway and moving away from Roswell. Maria took Michael's answer in silence and with an expression of concern on her face. She pondered calling the Sheriff Department. But she had no idea how Michael would react to the attempt, and she had her reluctance about doing it. She had no desire to see Michael arrested. Despite her protestations concerning him, she was by then a full partner in Liz's commitment to his protection along with Max and Isabel. This was something she had become only too aware of as she pondered her options. After another ten minutes of plotting acts she did not have the heart to carry out, Maria's cell phone began to ring. She noted the name of the caller via the cellphone display and quickly activated the phone an instant behind.

"Liz!" Maria spoke almost desperately into the phone.

Michael noted these happenings with a look and then turned his attention back to the road. He was gambling that Maria would not endanger him or Max and Isabel by calling the Sheriff Department. He was prepared to stop her if she tried. But it was his hope that this would not be necessary. As the minutes passed, he became increasingly confident that his gamble was going to pay off in his favor. And in this he was grateful. Despite his attitude towards Maria, the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. He saw a call from Liz as innocent and inevitable, and he suspected Maria would feel more at ease by his allowing her to have this communication. Michael knew that Liz would tell Max and he, in turn, would tell Isabel of his actions. But he knew none of them could stop him now that he was driving down the highway.

"I can't come in to work," Maria insisted into the phone.

Maria paused for two seconds to listen to Liz. She kept her eyes on Michael as she held the phone up to her ear.

"Because I'm being abducted," Maria yelled for Michael's benefit more so than Liz's.

After a second of listening, Maria responded to the next question that Liz put to her.

"By the Martian with the bad haircut, that's who," Maria stressed into the phone.

Maria took a few seconds to listen before answering Liz's next inquiry.

"Yes, Michael," Maria stressed excitedly into the phone.

Maria, immediately, calmed down in response to Liz's new inquiry. Three seconds later, she gave her reply.

"He's going to see that rock thing," Maria spat into the phone.

After another brief pause, Maria responded to Liz's statement. "Yeah, tell them to bring his leash. He looks crazy enough to do anything."

Maria listened for three seconds to Liz's concluding remarks and then responded with her own.

"Great, well you know where I'll be at," Maria spoke sarcastically into the phone.

A second later, Maria turned her cellphone off and put it back into her purse. She then gave Michael a look of disdain. He returned her look with a glance out of the corner of his eyes and then refocused his attention on the road. Stopping only for gas, they road on for nearly an hour without speaking to each other. Halfway into this time, signs giving directions to Holloman Air Force base began to appear. Michael drove past these exits and continued on for another twenty-five minutes before taking an exit for the White Sands Missile range. Shortly after taking this exit, Michael turned off onto a dirt road that skirted the perimeter of the range. Signs reading "Government Property, No Trespassing" were attached to the barbed wire fencing and spaced fifty yards apart. Ten minutes down this road, they came to a gate for the range. It had been busted open. Michael stopped to study the entrance. Maria took alarm at the sight of his entrance and quickly vocalized as much.

"You can't be serious," Maria declared in an astonished tone of voice.

Michael considered her and then the gate for a few seconds more before driving past it. He thought the open gate was very inviting, but he suspected the trail beyond would be too much for the little Jetta. After another five minutes, Michael parked the Jetta to the side of the road and shut off the engine.

"This should be about right," Michael spoke to himself.

"You're not going in there," Maria questioned with a shocked expression.

Michael pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped out of the car.

"Wait here," Michael instructed.

"Michael," Maria shouted with alarm. "You can't leave me here."

"Maybe now you wish you had stayed in Roswell," Michael criticized.

"Michael," Maria continued with greater urgency. "You can't just go and leave me here."

"I'm not going to be gone long," Michael advised in a reassuring voice. "Maybe two hours, three at the most…"

"Three hours," Maria yelled with a shocked expression.

"It's got to be between three to four miles that away," Michael advised with a point.

"Give me the keys, Michael," Maria interrupted with a yell.

"If I know Max, he's own his way here right now. And you've got your cell phone," he continued in his best reassuring tone.

"Michael," Maria responded sternly. "If they catch you in there, they will arrest you."

"They're not going to catch me," Michael confidently replied before shutting the door.

Michael quickly crossed the narrow dirt road and climbed over the fence. Thirty seconds later he had disappeared behind the distant terrain at a fast jog. Maria watched him leave with a look of exasperation. A minute after he was gone, she pulled her spare key from out of her purse, gave it a long look and then put it back inside her purse.


	25. Chapter 25 The Wrong Turn

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 25: The Wrong Turn

By the time Liz got around to calling Maria's cellphone she had been waiting for her arrival at work for fifteen minutes. The fact that Maria had not called her suggested to Liz that she was in route. This was the only explanation she could think of for Maria not telephoning in to report her disposition. After fifteen minutes, her tardiness had become too long for Liz to sit idly by waiting for the door to open or the phone to bring news of her status.

"Where are you?" Liz inquired into her cellphone with a concerned inflection.

Liz listened for a couple of seconds as Maria responded to her inquiry. An instant behind this she blurted out the question that popped into her mind.

"Why not…?"

Once again, Liz listened to Maria's response. A second into this she reacted with a start to something she heard and inquired about it an instant later.

"Abducted… who's abducting you?" Liz questioned with a stunned expression.

Liz listened as Maria rifled back her answer and then responded with a reaction of shock more than a question.

"Michael?"

Maria quickly confirmed this. Liz's shock turned to a confusion that slowed her next inquiry.

"Where's he taking you?" Liz questioned after a pause.

Liz took in Maria's reply with a look of understanding and a look of urgency.

"Okay, I'm going to get Max," Liz assured. She listened for a moment as Maria spoke back to her and then she responded back. "Okay Maria, don't worry, I'll get back to you as soon as we have a plan."

Liz listened again for a few seconds and then she disconnected the call. She stood there, in the pantry and locker-room area of the restaurant, for nearly thirty seconds pondering the phone in her hand. At the end of this time she concluded that a face to face meeting with Max was preferable to a phone call.

"Dad, you need to call someone in to fill in for me and Maria," Liz reported in an urgent tone.

"What? …Why?" Jeff fumbled out as his mind played catch up with his daughter's sudden assertion. "Where's Maria?"

Liz had already raced into her bedroom to change out of her uniform and into pants and a blouse. Jeff followed her to the door so that he could hear her answer.

"Dad, Maria has an emergency …a school emergency," Liz fibbed as she dressed. "She has to prepare for a big test that she's taking Monday and I need to help her."

"Well, can't you do this after work?" Jeff questioned suspiciously.

Liz hesitated to answer this question just long enough to devise a reasonable one.

"We have to go to the library, Dad," Liz replied with a hint of anxiety. "And the library closes early on Saturdays," she emphasized. "And it won't be open at all tomorrow," she finished with a hint of desperation.

Jeff scratched his neck and pondered this for a second before turning away baffled beyond any comeback.

"Okay."

Liz quickly redressed and raced out the back entrance of Crash-Down Café. She knew that calling would be quicker, but the prospect of seeing Max, outside of school for a legitimate reason, was an opportunity that her subconscious would not allow her to throw away. She promptly unlocked her bicycle from the sign post that kept it secured and set off astride of it on a course for Max's house. She arrived outside of the Evan's home ten minutes later. Out of breath and panting, Liz hurried up to the front door and rang the bell. Diane Evans answered the ring.

"Hi," Diane greeted pleasantly after opening the front door.

Diane had no idea who Liz was by appearance. She had seen her by chance on more than one occasion. But they never had cause to become personally acquainted. Her first thought was that she was an acquaintance of Isabel's. She waited for a reply to have this suspicion confirmed.

"Hi, is Max home?" Liz questioned with a hint of urgency.

"Oh uh, yes he is," Diane acknowledged with a surprised inflection. "Come in."

Diane had not seen a girl call on Max since he was the age of ten. She was caught completely unawares by the inquiry and was more than a little excited by the prospect. With a large smile, she ushered Liz across the living and dining rooms, down the adjacent hall to the first room on the right. Liz followed behind pleasantly. Diane stopped to one side and just outside the open doorway of Max's room.

"Max," Diane called out sweetly. "You have a visitor."

Max looked away from the computer screen he was studying and back behind him just in time to see Liz step into his room.

"Hi, Max," Liz greeted timidly.

Max jumped up from his seat, just as she spoke, with a look of shock on his face.

"Hi," Max returned with a surprised look.

Liz took another tentative step into his room as Max looked to his mother. She was watching this meet and greet with amused interest.

"Thanks, Mom," Max imparted to his mother.

Diane quickly took the hint. With a smile on her face, she turned about and left him and Liz alone.

"What are you doing here?" Max almost whispered two seconds after Diane was gone.

"Max, Michael has Maria," Liz hastily reported without regard for the question put to her. "He's going to White Sands."

Max paused for a moment to think about what he just heard. At the end of this time he focused in on Liz and responded to her concern.

"I'll take care of it," Michael reported an instant before turning about and shutting down his computer.

"What are you going to do, Max?" Liz questioned with a hint of worry.

"I'll find them and bring them back," he answered as he slipped a shirt on over his t-shirt.

"I'm coming with you," Liz announced an instant behind.

Max was caught off guard by this and stopped what he was doing to give Liz a surprised look.

"No, Liz," Max responded with a definitive inflection. "It's too much of a risk. I'll take care of it."

"I'm going with you, Max," Liz insisted sternly. "Maria is my friend."

Max studied Liz for two seconds and concluded after this that she was not going to back down.

"Okay," Max acknowledged an instant before retrieving his keys off of his desk.

Max and Liz hurried out of the room. When they reached the dining area, Diane called out to them.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes, Mom," Max briefly stopped to report.

Liz came to a stop alongside him.

"I'll be back this afternoon," Max continued.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Diane queried just as Max started to leave.

Max stopped an instant after taking another step. He then turned back towards his mother to respond to her inquiry.

"Oh yeah, Mom, this is Liz."

"Hi, Mrs. Evans," Liz quickly spoke up with a smile.

Diane had no reaction to Liz's greeting. She was too busy being surprised by her name.

"Oh my, are you the young lady that was shot by accident a few months back?" Diane inquired with a shocked expression.

"Yeah, that was me," Liz responded with a blush.

"Well it's great to see that you're doing so well," Diane expressed with a large smile.

"Thank you," Liz reciprocated with a smile.

"Mom," Max jumped in softly. "We have to go."

"Where are you going to?" Diane asked with a look of intrigue.

"We're going to a show," Liz answered ahead of Max.

"Oh okay," Diane replied with nearly a grin. "Well, have fun and I hope I'll be seeing you again."

"Me too," Liz responded an instant before turning and walking away behind Max.

Outside of the house, Max and Liz jumped into his jeep and quickly took off down the street at a hurried pace. It took Max and Liz little more than an hour to traverse the distance to the outskirts of the White Sands Missile Range. Along the way they made several attempts to reach Maria by cellphone. The report they got back was that her phone was out of range. Without directions to guide him, Max navigated down the path he considered to be the most likely route that Michael took. Ten minutes after leaving the highway, he came to the same open gate that Michael and Maria passed by a few hours earlier. Max stopped to consider the two paths.

"You think they went in there?" Liz questioned Max with a look of concern.

This is exactly what Max was thinking. He interpreted the open gate as a sign of their passing. His biggest concern at that moment was for Liz.

"You should wait here," Max instructed Liz with a worried look.

"I'm not getting out, Max," Liz insisted with a determined look.

Max was not committed to the idea of leaving Liz alone in such a desolate place. He had his concerns about taking her onto the White Sands Missile Range, but he knew she would at least be with him all the time. After a moment of thought, he decided to take Liz with him onto the range. As he turned off the road and through the entrance to the range, Max muttered to himself, "Damn you Michael."

Max and Liz spent another hour searching for Michael, Maria and the outcrop. He had a general idea about where they should be based upon the general location given for the outcrop in the caption below the picture in the book. Max knew he was in the appropriate section of the range. But he suspected that the rugged terrain was making it difficult for him to get to the specific area where this outcrop was. They spent most of the past hour circumnavigating terrain that was too rugged for the jeep to drive over. Max thought about abandoning it and setting off on foot. But he knew Maria's Jetta was far less capable of handling the terrain than his jeep. And he elected to keep going where only a vehicle could travel with the expectation that they would come across Maria's Jetta sooner or later.

It was at this time that Max saw a vehicle moving in the distance. He could see right away that it was not Maria's Jetta. And he quickly turned his jeep about and started back for the gate at his best speed for the conditions. Liz noted the vehicle at nearly the same moment as Max and was equally convinced that it was not Maria's Jetta.

"Who do you think it is?" Liz questioned Max.

"It's probably some kind of patrol," Max answered back as he continued to struggle with the steering and the terrain. "I shouldn't have brought you here," he mumbled to himself.

In the beginning Max had no idea if the vehicle was coming towards them or just passing by. It took a minute more for him to learn that they were coming directly at them and that they were gaining on them.

"Hold on," Max instructed Liz as he increased his speed by another ten miles per hour.

Max had good understanding of where he was and where he had to go to get back to the gate. By his estimation he had his pursuers beat so long as he navigated the terrain safely and efficiently. His estimation was that he was little more than another minute away from being off the missile range when another vehicle appeared and to the left on an intersect course.

"Max," Liz called out as she noted the second vehicle.

"I see them," Max responded as he nudged the jeep a little faster. "Don't worry; I'll get us out of here."

Max began steering his jeep a little to the right of the line that went directly to the gate. He estimated that he could still beat his pursuers to the gate once he got past the one coming from his ten o'clock position. He felt he had a clear shot at this when crested a small mound that tossed his jeep three feet off the ground. They came down on terrain that was slanted down to the right. The jeep bounced off the ground and deviated sharply to the right. Before Max could do anything to stop it, the front of the jeep hit a large boulder and came to a sudden stop. Liz was uninjured by the crash. Her seat belt kept her firmly secured to her jeep. Max was held into his seat as well, but his head impacted hard with the wheel. A gash was opened above his left eye and blood was streaming down his face.

After taking a few seconds to get her wits back, Liz noted Max slumped over the wheel.

"Max, are you alright?" Liz called out to him as she pulled him back off the wheel.

It was at this moment that the two military vehicles that was pursuing them raced up and stopped. Four soldiers climbed out of the two vehicles and moved to within a dozen feet of Liz and Max before stopping.

"Hurry, he's hurt," Liz cried out.

The four soldiers showed no reaction to Liz's summon. One of the four soldiers activated the walkie-talkie in his hand and spoke into it.

"It's confirmed, Dispatch, two occupants, one male …one female. The male appears to be injured and unconscious …Requesting a medevac at this location."


	26. Chapter 26 Slip of the Lip

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 26: Slip of the Lip

It was a quarter past three in the afternoon when Michael climbed back over the barbwire fencing and returned to the Volkswagen Jetta. Maria was in the car sleeping behind the wheel when he arrived. The sound of Michael unlocking and then opening the passenger door startled her awake. He quickly slipped into the passenger seat and closed the door behind him. His face displayed a look of dissatisfaction. It was obvious to Maria that his foray onto the White Sands Missile Range did not turn out as he had hoped. Michael stared straight ahead as if he was contemplating something.

"Did you find your spaceship?" Maria questioned snidely after a two second examination.

Michael's only reaction was to show annoyance with the question as he met her stare with a turn of his head. A second after this he extended the car key to her.

"Here, drive," Michael instructed dryly.

Maria promptly took the key and started the car. A few seconds later she had the vehicle turned about and moving down the road the way they came.

"So, I take it things didn't turn out the way you planned," Maria pried gently.

"It wasn't the right rock formation, alright?" Michael grumbled back.

"So, we wasted all this time for nothing?" Maria quipped as she drove.

"Just be quiet and drive," Michael snarled back at her.

Maria was amused and not angered by Michael's foul mood. She elected to drive along quietly as she enjoyed her contentment. The silence continued for another forty-five minutes, up until the moment that Maria took an early exit off the highway.

"Where are you going?" Michael questioned with a stern look.

"I'm hungry," Maria answered with a do you mind expression.

"Eat when you get home," Michael ordered gruffly. "Get back on the highway."

"I'm not eating when I get home," Maria countered sneeringly. "I'm hungry now."

Maria continued to steer towards a fast food restaurant called Flaming Burgers. Michael could see that there was no deterring her from this decision. And that any attempt by him to try would only make her more determined. He chose instead to cross his arms and fret about the amount of control his willful traveling companion had over his life at present. Nearly a minute later, Maria had parked the car in the parking lot adjacent to the restaurant, and stepped out of vehicle through the driver's side doorway. When she looked back, Michael was still sitting in the car with his arms crossed and his attention straight ahead.

"Aren't you coming?" Maria questioned with a puzzled look on her face.

"No, hurry up," Michael hollered back at her.

"You can't just sit in the car," Maria insisted.

"Yes I can," Michael rifled back. "Now go and stuff your face and get it over with."

"Michael, you've got to be hungry," Maria argued with a frown. "You've been running around in the desert for more than three hours."

"Will you just go and eat already," Michael yelled at her.

"No," Maria hollered back. "Not until you tell me why you're sitting alone out here."

Michael gave Maria a sharp look of irritation before responding to her remark two seconds later.

"I don't have any money, okay?" Michael spouted with an exasperated expression. "I put all my money into the gas tank."

Maria took a moment to transition her demeanor from confused to disbelief.

"All hell, you're worse than a baby," Maria complained sarcastically. "Come on!" She continued after a shake of her head.

"I'm fine," Michael insisted with an inflection of defiance.

Maria crossed her arms in response to this and took a stubborn stance.

"No you're not," Maria argued. "You're probably starving after all that running. Now come on, I'm buying."

Michael gave Maria four more seconds of defiance before jumping out of the car and slamming the door behind him.

"I'll pay you back," Michael insisted with a huff.

"Sure you will," Maria cynically replied as she walked towards the entrance of the restaurant.

Michael quickly stopped in reaction to this remark. Maria stopped two steps ahead and turned about to see Michael angry and hurt. She shortly modified her behavior in response to his.

"Okay, you can pay me back," Maria agreed with a nod and a much softer tone.

Michael started walking again and Maria turned about to match his stride. Inside the restaurant, at the order window, they said as little as possible to each other, conveying only as much information as necessary to navigate through the situation. They took their food back to a booth by the window, and began to sulk in silence while they ate. The restaurant had only half a dozen customers in it, counting them, scattered about a large dining area. There was no one nearby to hear their conversation. But still they said nothing for all of five minutes. At the end of this time, Maria spoke up simply to fill the quiet between them.

"You know you could at least say thank you," Maria advised critically.

"I said I would pay you back," Michael responded in a complaining voice.

"Paying me back is not a thank you," Maria scolded.

"Why do you have to make an issue out of everything?" Michael challenged in an argumentative tone.

"I don't make issues out of everything," Maria retorted vehemently.

"You have to complain about everything," Michael continued without regard for Maria's retort.

"I don't complain about everything and I don't think you know me well enough to say that," Maria defended angrily.

"Oh, I know you plenty well enough," Michael rifled back. "You can't enjoy the moment. You have to find fault in everything."

"Oh, excuse me," Maria responded with over the top astonishment. "I didn't know this was a date. I thought I was being an extremely good sport for someone who's been kidnapped."

"See, there you go again," Michael retaliated with exaggerated disbelief. "I told you to get out of the car. You wouldn't listen."

By this time, everyone in the restaurant was noting their angry discourse with growing intrigue.

"You were taking my car!" Maria responded with a look of shock.

"You're so irritating," Michael bellowed with exasperation as he sat back in his seat.

"I'm irritating?" Maria questioned with incredulity. "Mister you're the king of irritating."

"Really," Michael responded as he leaned forward with a look of shock. "What have I ever done to irritate you?"

"Oh please," Maria countered with an astounded look. "You tormented me all through fourth grade."

"Fourth grade…?" Michael questioned with a, what are you talking about look. "I was nine years old."

"You sat behind me in fourth grade" Maria began to explain with a, don't you remember look. "You use to kick my chair and toss little bits of paper into my hair and poke me with your pencil."

"You wouldn't shut up," Michael answered back with a shrug. "You were always talking with other girl …Becky."

"She was my friend," Maria sharply countered. "And what did it matter to you?"

"You wouldn't shut up!" Michael insisted in a stronger voice.

"You're insane," Maria huffed with exasperation.

"You know what, I'm out here," Michael declared in a definitive tone as he got up from his seat.

Michael stormed out of the restaurant, to the notice of all within. He walked across the parking lot and got back into the passenger seat of the Jetta. A minute later Maria followed him back to the car at a slower pace and with an infuriated expression. She stopped just outside of the driver's side door and took a few seconds to calm herself down. She then opened the car door and slid into her seat. Michael ignored her as she did this. Maria promptly put the key in the ignition and was just about to turn it when she stopped. An instant behind this she turned to Michael with a scowl on her face and asked the question that had been seething in her thoughts for the past minute.

"If you were so mad at me for talking, why didn't you ever pester Becky?" Maria questioned heatedly. "She was talking just as much as me."

"Maybe I didn't want to pester Becky," Michael defended in an annoyed tone without returning Maria's gaze.

"So, there was just something wrong about me then?" Maria questioned in a vexed tone.

Michael gave no response to this as he continued to avoid Maria's gaze.

"What was it?" Maria continued after a pause. "You didn't like my voice. You didn't like my hair?

Michael continued to ignore Maria by staring straight ahead.

"What?" Maria demanded at the volume of a yell.

"Maybe I just wanted you to talk to me," Michael hollered back with a sudden turn of his head to meet her gaze.

Maria was taken aback by this statement. She paused to give Michael a wide eyed look of surprise before responding to it.

"Is that it?" She exclaimed.

A little embarrassed by this partial confession, Michael looked away before answering Maria's inquiry under his breath.

"Don't let it go to your head," he tossed out with a shrug. "I was nine. Nine year olds have terrible judgment."

Maria took immediate offense to this reply and countered it with a quick and sharp response.

"I had great judgment. I knew better than to talk to you."

"You see," Michael abruptly spoke up angrily with a toss of his hand and a glare towards Maria. "You can't even take a compliment without getting all worked up."

"You call that a compliment," Maria raved back at Michael with a scowl.

"Yeah…!" Michael insisted furiously.

"You couldn't recognize a compliment embossed on a Hallmark card," Maria roared back.

Michael and Maria took three seconds after this remark to glare at each other with their passions seething. At the end of this they did the last thing that either of them expected. Michael reached out suddenly, grasped Maria about her head and pulled her into a kiss. Almost at this same moment, Maria tossed herself at Michael as she reached out and grabbed him about his waste and shoulder. They clenched together into a powerful kiss. Ten seconds later they adjusted their position, their arms searching and reaching for new locations to better squeeze the other into their embrace. Their passion and their lust for one-another was their driving motivation. Reason and any awareness of their surroundings were gone. They tangled and re-tangled about each other again and again. Pausing only for brief seconds to reconfigure their connection and to exhale out and gulp in breaths of air. Their craving for each other was seemingly at a fever pitch. Michael's arms found their way around Maria's waste and shoulders. He began pulling her towards him into the passenger seat. While still kissing and re-kissing Michael about his lips, Maria crawled out of her seat and onto his. On her knees in the passenger seat, Maria's legs straddled Michael as she faced him head on. Their kisses suddenly turned to caresses as their lips found each other's necks, shoulders and ears. Moans of pleasure and passion were the closest thing to a discourse between them. Michael's hands began exploring Maria's body. She began unbuttoning his shirt to better access his chest. Michael's hands reached up beneath Maria's blouse to caress her skin. He began to squirm and moan in reaction to his expanding ardor. Maria writhed atop him in response to his enthusiasm. Suddenly, two minutes into this frantic love play, they collapsed into one-another's embrace, seemingly spent. The tight confines of the Jetta awakened them to the limitations of their desires. They sat there for thirty seconds, as they were, doing nothing other than panting away their exhaustion.

At the end of this time, Maria pushed herself off of Michael and slid back beneath the steering wheel. They briefly looked at one-another with mixtures of embarrassment, surprise and longing. Maria turned the key at the end of this time, put the car into gear and drove off for Roswell. They said nothing for the remainder of the trip.

They came to a stop in front of the Evans' home, per Michael's instructions. He wanted to tell Max and Isabel what he did not discover. He and Maria exchanged looks inside the car. In the absence of any parting words from Michael, Maria spoke up three seconds into this.

"Yeah, you too…"

It was a quarter to four when Michael stepped out of the car. He promptly closed the door behind him and Maria drove off with equal rapidity. Michael then started up the walkway towards the house. He was intercepted by Isabel halfway between the curb and the house. She came storming out the house a second after Maria drove off.

"Michael, what were you thinking?" Isabel questioned with a stunned inflection.

"I had to see it," Michael exclaimed. "And I didn't want to wait for you and Max."

Isabel calmed down a little bit after hearing this. She spoke up again after a moment of pause.

"Well?"

Michael understood the question and responded to it after a moment of thought.

"It wasn't it."

Isabel was slightly relieved to hear this. But she tried her best not to show it.

"Where's Max?" Michael inquired two seconds later.

"He went looking for you," Isabel explained with a look of confusion. "Didn't you see him?"

"No," Michael replied with a shake of his head. "I didn't."


	27. Chapter 27 Family Feud

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 27: Family Feud

It was shortly after nine o'clock at night when the Parkers and the Evans were notified that their children, Liz and Max, were arrested by the Military Police at the White Sands Missile Range. The call came from the Chaves County Sheriff Department. They were informed that they would call when their respective child could be picked up at the Sheriff Station in Roswell. It was explained to them that a Sheriff Department patrol car was sent to White Sands to collect Liz and Max and bring them back later that night. And that they would be called when they arrived. What they were not told was that the Military authorities at White Sands spent much of that evening attending to Max's injury. And that they waited until after determining Max's injuries were minor before committing themselves to surrendering the juveniles to the Chaves County Sheriff Department.

The next call from the Sheriff Department to the Parkers and the Evans went out shortly after three o'clock in the morning, Sunday. The Parkers and the Evans promptly raced down to the station to collect their respective child. Mr. and Mrs. Parker, and Mr. and Mrs. Evans, raced through the front doors of the Roswell Sheriff Station seconds apart. They eyed each other suspiciously and with more than a little resentment. To the surprise of them both, when they got to the counter of the desk sergeant they found Jim Valenti waiting in front of it for them. He promptly stepped towards them and raised his hands to flag their attentions towards him.

"Your children will be here in a few minutes," Jim announced. "And you will be able to take them home as soon as they arrive."

"What happened?" Jeff Parker almost demanded.

Jeff and Jim graduated from high school together and had been childhood acquaintances. But they were never close friends. Jeff, however; did know him well enough not to be impressed by his position or feel the need to be formal in his mode of address.

"They were picked up by military police for trespassing onto a military installation," Jim explained in a calm voice.

"Oh my God," Diane Evans responded to herself.

"Were charges filed?" Phillip Evans quickly challenged.

"No," Jim answered in a word.

Jim paused for a second to note if the two families registered the significance of this answer. He then continued to explain what happened and why.

"Apparently the chain locking the gate to the installation was cut and they could find no evidence that your children had anything to do with that. Max and Liz said that they wandered onto the installation by accident and got lost. The officials at White Sands decided to accept this explanation and no charges will be filed."

"What were they doing so far away from home?" Nancy Parker questioned Jim with an alarmed inflection.

"You'll have to ask them that question," Jim responded with a shrug.

"Well my daughter couldn't have gotten there on her own," Jeff asserted with a glare towards the Evans. "She doesn't even have car. So your son must be responsible."

Phillip took the accusation in silence. Diane's response was angry and loud.

"My son was at home minding his own business when your daughter came over and dragged him out of the house."

"My daughter is an A student," Nancy blared back.

This was no longer the truth. Liz grade point average had fallen to a B. But this was something that she did not want to admit at this moment.

"She would never do anything like this on her own," Nancy continued in a furious tone.

"Of course not," Diane rifled back. "Not when she manipulate some unsuspecting boy to do it for her."

"You bitch!" Nancy roared at Diane.

"Are you talking about me or your daughter?" Diane hollered back. "Because I don't know if I should be offended or pleased."

Phillip and Jim stepped forward simultaneously to calm the situation.

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions," Jim softly asserted as he moved between the two families. "This could all be some innocent mistake."

Diane and Nancy backed away a step and fumed in silence. As they did this, Phillip spoke up with a question that he had been pondering.

"Why is the Sheriff Department involved with this," Phillip asked with a curious inflection. "This would have been a Federal Crime if charges had been filed."

Jeff, Nancy and Diane were quickly drawn in behind this question. They all looked to Jim for the answer.

"We were contacted for information on your children," Jim coolly explained.

"What kind of information," Jeff quickly inquired.

"They just wanted to know if Max or Liz had records," Jim replied with a shrug.

"Well, I don't know about that boy of theirs," Jeff sharply reported. "But Liz certainly doesn't."

"Max has never been in trouble with the law," Diane quickly defended.

"Then they must have been considering charges at some time during all of this," Phillip questioned more that stated.

Jim paused in response to Phillip's implied question. Both the Evans and the Parkers noted this and watched as he searched for the words to explain.

"Apparently there were some injuries involved," Jim began delicately.

"What?" Diane questioned with a start.

"Injuries…!" Nancy parroted simultaneously.

"They weren't serious, I'm told," Jim quickly reported. "Large institutions like to cover all the bases when injuries are involved, especially to a minor."

"I don't understand," Jeff reacted aloud.

"They wanted to make sure they weren't vulnerable to being sued before deciding if they should or should not press charges." Phillip explained in a matter of fact tone.

"Exactly," Jim agreed in a word.

"How did they get injured," Nancy questioned in a worried voice.

"There was a chase and they ran into something," Jim answered softly.

Nancy and Diane were visibly worried by this news. Jeff was visibly infuriated. He gave Phillip a glare that he ignored.

"The vehicle was confiscated," Jim continued to explain. "And is being towed to our impound yard. You can pick it up Monday at the earliest."

The two pair of parents paused for a moment to process this information. They had been standing there for several seconds, staring at the space between them and the floor, when the sound of someone coming through the front entrance suddenly drew their attentions.

Liz and Max walked through the front entrance of the Roswell Sheriff Station flanked by two uniformed Deputy Sheriffs. Halfway down the hallway between them and their parents, Jim waved the deputies off and they quickly turned about and went out the way they came. Max had a large bandage above his right eye. Liz looked slightly disheveled, but no worse for the wear. Diane and Nancy both rushed to their respective child and took them into their arms.

"Oh, Baby, are you hurt bad?" Diane questioned as she moved back to examine his bandage.

"No, Mom," Max replied softly as he studied his father's disapproval out the corner of his eyes. "It's nothing."

"You alright," Nancy questioned after pushing back to look her daughter in the eyes.

"I'm fine, Mom, really," Liz responded softly with a shake of her head.

"You sure you're alright, Liz," Jeff questioned with a hint of anger.

"Yeah, Dad," Liz responded while trying to avoid his gaze. "I wasn't hurt."

No sooner had Liz finished giving her answer did Jeff turn his attention toward Max with his anger unchecked.

"What the hell did you think you were doing taking my daughter a hundred miles outside of Roswell," Jeff roared with point.

"Don't point your finger at my son," Phillip roared back as he stepped out ahead of his son.

"It's my fault, Dad" Liz quickly asserted as she moved a step closer to her father.

"Hold on, hold on," Jim quickly blared as he moved between the two fathers.

"No, it's my fault," Max declared to Jeff an instant behind this. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have taken her there."

Phillip and Jeff fumed at each other as Jim stood his ground between them.

"Come on, Phillip," Diane called out two seconds as she began pulling Max towards the front exit.

Phillip took a second more to stare down Jeff Parker and then turned away to follow.

"Keep your boy away from my daughter," Jeff called out to Phillip's back two steps later.

Phillip stopped and looked back around before responding, "Keep your daughter away from my son."

After taking two seconds to exchange glares with Jeff Parker, Phillip turned back around and followed Diane and Max out the front entrance.

Jeff watched the Evans walk away out the front entrance before turning to Jim Valenti with a scowl.

"Is there anything I should know about that boy?" Jeff questioned in an angry tone.

Jim hesitated to answer this question. He took a moment to glance at Liz and a look to Nancy before giving a response.

"Can we talk for a minute," Jim suggested with a point to the far side of the atrium.

Jeff followed Jim's lead to the area he had pointed too.

"Wait here," Nancy instructed as she followed them both.

Jim stopped and turned about when he was convinced that they were out of earshot of Liz. Jeff and Nancy stopped close in front of him.

"I don't have anything on Max Evans," Jim spoke softly. "I do know that he is a close friend of a kid named Michael Guerin. Him I do have a record on. He stole a car at the age of thirteen and he was picked up for vandalism once."

"So this kid is bad news?" Jeff questioned bluntly.

"I don't know that," Jim responded with a shrug. "But what I do know is that my son is worried about Liz," he continued in a concerned tone. "He says that she's been acting strange around Max and that she's keeping secrets."

Jim paused to give Jeff and Nancy time to assimilate this.

"Have you noticed anything different about Liz lately," Jim gently inquired as he searched their eyes for a response. "Has she been acting disoriented? Has her attitude change at all?"

"You think that it's drugs," Jeff quickly challenged.

Nancy was visibly shocked by the suggestion.

"I like Liz," Jim quickly responded. "I think she's a good kid and I'd hate to see a bad influence send her down the wrong path."

"Her grades," Nancy whispered aloud with an inflection of alarm.

"What about her grades," Jim questioned with curiosity.

"Liz's grades have been falling ever since she got out of the hospital," Jim explained at close to whisper.

"What do we do?" Nancy questioned with a hint of fear in her voice.

"There could be a reason other than drugs for that," Jim countered. "Being shot is a traumatic event."

"But what if it is drugs?" Jeff gruffly challenged. "How do we find out?"

Jim took a second to glance into the eyes of both Jeff and Nancy before responding to this inquiry.

"Well, you should talk to Liz first of all," he began with an introspective look. "And just keep watch for the signs, red eyes, slurred speech, erratic mood changes," Jim explained in an off the cuff delivery.

Jim hesitated to say more despite an exclamatory gesture of his hands. The Parkers noted this and waited for him to continue. A second later Jim finished his thought at near to a whisper.

"The White Sands Military Police are doing a drug test on Max Evans at my request," Jim reported with careful attention to his words. "They're going to notify me of the results. If I discover anything that should give you cause to be concerned, I'll give you a warning."

"You do that," Jeff insisted

He, Nancy and Jim exchanged stares for all of five seconds and then the Parkers left for home.


	28. Chapter 28 Home Again, Home Again

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 28: Home Again, Home Again

The ride home was a quiet one. Max sat silently in the back seat of his parents car as his father drove. The look of anger and disappoint in Phillip's eyes could be seen in the reflection off the rear view mirror. Diane sat quietly by her husband. She anticipated his anger and was not sure how to react before seeing the scale of the blow. It was ten minutes before five in the morning when the three of them walked through the front door of their home. Isabel was sitting on the living-room sofa waiting for them to arrive. Phillip went to the center of the room and slowly turned back around. His gaze was towards the floor. His face was a mask of introspection and frustration. Diane took a position near to her husband, but at a right angle. Isabel was visible in front of her. Max closed the front door behind him and moved to a position directly opposite his father and stopped.

"Okay, Max," Phillip spoke up with a brief shake of his head followed by an angry stare. "What the hell was that about? What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Max softly responded with a look. "It was a bad decision…"

"A bad decision," Phillip roared in his interruption. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you and that girl?"

Max had no response to this as he evaded his father's stare. Isabel watched the conversation with worried interest. Dressed in pajamas and bare feet, she sat with her legs folded up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Diane watched the conversation with wide eyed concern.

"Forget about the legal consequences," Phillip continued to roar. "Forget about this being a Federal crime that could have ended up permanently affixed to your record …and that girl's."

Diane's anxiety increased with the level of Phillip's discourse. She raised her left hand in an attempt to encourage her husband to calm down. Phillip spun away from the gesture and put his hand on his hip in frustration before turning back towards Max with an angry scowl.

"You could have been killed, Max," Phillip hissed in a milder tone and a stern stare.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Max responded softly. "It won't happen again."

Phillip shook his head as he looked towards the floor. His anger was seemingly spent. Dismay was the look that shaped his expression.

"I'm disappointed in you, Max," Phillip continued in a soft voice. "I expected a whole lot better than this from you."

Max continued to stand in silence with a look of embarrassment over his father's disfavor. Phillip continued to shake his head in disbelief for another five seconds before ending his tirade with his adjudication.

"Okay, you're grounded for a month," Phillip declared sternly. "The cost of impounding, the towing, and the repair of the jeep are coming out of your allowance. I'm very disappointed in you, Max."

With that said Phillip left the living-room and went back to his bed.

"What is it, Max?" Diane softly inquired as she stepped in front of her son. "What are you not telling us?"

"I'm telling you everything, Mom," Max responded with a shrug.

"No you're not," Diane contradicted at near to a whisper. "Does it have something to do with this girl, Liz?"

"No, Mom," Max quickly denied. "We were just exploring and we got lost. Liz is just a friend."

"A very pretty friend," Diane gently asserted as she studied Max's reaction.

Max was slightly befuddled by this comment. He was not sure how to respond or to react. Diane studied his hesitation carefully and then spoke up at the end of her analysis.

"You're hiding something. I know you, Max. You would never have gone onto that missile range, let alone take someone else, if the reason wasn't important enough for the risk."

"Mom, I just got lost," Max denied with a shake of his head.

Diane gave her son a two second study and then she gave her final adjudication.

"Tell me, or don't tell me, that's up to you. But if this is an example of what comes with knowing this girl, then I don't want her in my house."

"This is not Liz's fault," Max quickly defended.

"She lied to me, Max," Diane retaliated in a stern voice. "She said you were going to the show and you didn't."

"I lied to you, Mom," Max corrected with a desperate inflection just as Diane turned to walk away.

Diane stopped in response to this and turned back to face her son head on. She gave him three seconds of study with a concerned look on her face. And then she responded to his declaration with the only answer that she could think of.

"You have that luxury, she doesn't."

Diane gave her son two seconds more of study and then left for her bedroom. Max watched her disappear behind her bedroom door. He then walked over to the sofa and flopped down beside Isabel.

"You took Liz with you," Isabel whispered at Max.

"She insisted," Max responded halfheartedly. "I didn't have a choice."

"Of course you had a choice," Isabel asserted beneath a constrained whisper. "You always have a choice, Max."

"Okay, it was a mistake," Max grudgingly acquiesced.

"So, you're going to stop seeing Liz," Isabel questioned after a brief lull?

"I'm not seeing Liz," Max denied softly. "We're not dating," he added in a vacillating voice.

"Whatever you say, Max," Isabel responded a second behind.

"Have you heard from Michael?" Max questioned to change the subject.

"Yeah," Isabel blandly responded. "He came back hours ago, him and Maria."

Max pondered this for a second and then responded with a one word question.

"And…?"

"It was a waste of time, Max," Isabel dryly whispered. "The whole thing was a waste of time."

Isabel promptly got up and left for her room after this. Max went to his five minutes later.

_Line Break_

"I'm sorry, Dad," Liz pleaded in the living-room of the apartment that she and her parents lived in above the Crash-Down Café. "Things just got carried away. We didn't mean to do anything illegal."

Jeff was pacing about the room with a furious scowl as Liz gave her excuses. At the end of her statement he spun around to glare at his daughter as he spoke.

"I don't want you to have anything to do with that boy from now on."

"That's not fair," Liz insisted in a near weeping tone. "It wasn't Max's fault. It was my idea."

Nancy was watching this argument unfold with a steady stare, a fixed stance and with her arms crossed. She studied her daughter from nearly ten feet away. A look of anger and concern shaped her facial features.

"He was driving the car!" Jeff rifled back at his daughter. "He turned onto that military installation! He's the one who took you over one-hundred miles outside of Roswell without my permission! You are not to see this boy again."

"Mom," Liz implored to her mother. "You can't do this."

"Well Honey," Nancy replied sternly. "We just did."

"You can't tell me who I can and cannot have a friendship with," Liz defiantly cried out.

"You listen to me young lady," Jeff angrily asserted with a point. "You will do as I say."

Liz gave no response to this other than to cross her arms and stare back defiantly. Nancy noted that her daughter was not going to be bullied by this tact and became all the more concerned for her daughter by the discovery of this.

"Liz, what happened to you," Nancy entreated with a look of concern. She lowered her arms to her side and moved two steps closer as she spoke.

"Nothing is wrong," Liz reacted with a sincere expression. "It was just an adventure that went bad."

Nancy ignored her daughter's denial and quickly reshaped her inquiry.

"Honey, is there something you want to tell us?"

"There's nothing to tell," Liz responded with a confused shrug.

"Have you been experimenting?" Nancy probed delicately.

"What?" Liz reacted with a look of shock.

"Is that boy into drugs?" Jeff questioned in a commanding tone.

"No," Liz responded with a look of astonishment.

"The reasoning why we're asking is because we heard that Max has a close friendship with a boy named Michael," Nancy continued to explore.

"Max and Michael are not into drugs," Liz insisted in a definitive tone.

"So you know Michael too?" Jeff bellowed angrily.

"They're just friends, Dad," Liz asserted stridently. "They've known each other since grammar school."

"Did you know that Michael has a criminal record?" Nancy quickly inquired ahead of her husband.

"Yes, Mom, I do," Liz responded dryly. "He has troubles at home."

"Oh and that makes it alright," Jeff challenged with a mixture of sarcasm and anger.

Liz paused to shake her head in disbelief.

"You're getting this all wrong," Liz spoke up after two seconds of thought. "Max is a good person. He saved my life."

"It's okay to be grateful to someone," Nancy advised in a soft tone. "Just as long as you don't take that gratitude too far… Honey, your grades have been declining ever since you started up with this boy. He's bad news."

Liz shook her head again as she whispered out, "you're not getting it."

"Well you get this, Liz," Jeff declared forcefully. "I don't want that boy in my restaurant. I don't want to see him again."

"And you're grounded for a month," Nancy added an instant behind.

Liz took a few seconds to study the expressions on her parent's faces. She could see that nothing she could say, other than the truth, was going to shift them from their positions. At the end of this time she turned and went to her room, slamming the door behind her.


	29. Chapter 29 Rampaging Lust

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 29: Rampaging Lust

The next Monday morning, the primary topic of conversation at Roswell High School was Liz's and Max's White Sands adventure. They were the targets of looks and whispers from most of the student body. Their weekend event had all believing that the two of them were a couple. Within the first two hours of school they both had been inundated with inquiries about their relationship. Both Liz and Max brushed their association off as just a friendship, despite their feelings to the contrary.

Max and Liz saw one-another, for the first time, between their second and third period classes. They advised each other of their respective situations at home and traded information regarding Michael's and Maria's Saturday evening excursion. Max advised Liz that the outcrop at White Sands was not the one they were looking for. Liz reported to Max that Maria suffered no ill effects from her experience and was surprisingly nonplussed about the entire ordeal. Their talk was pleasant and mildly humorous up until Max suddenly changed the subject.

"I'm causing trouble for you and I have no right to do that." Max quickly spoke up.

The event at White Sands brought into focus for Max the extent to which he was out of control when it came to Liz. He spent all of Sunday contemplating their association and stealing himself for the task of giving Liz the results of his deliberation.

"It's not your fault. It was my decision, Max," Liz countered gently.

"I could have got you killed, Liz," Max corrected with a somber expression.

"I'm fine, Max. Everything is okay," Liz insisted pleasantly.

"Everything isn't okay, Liz. Your parents are right. You shouldn't be around me," Max spoke up sternly.

"My parents are wrong, Max," Liz insisted in a pleading tone. "They don't know you."

"Liz, I'm not going to be the cause of trouble between you and your parents," Max asserted forcefully.

"Things will get better, Max," Liz implored with a look of distress. "We just have to give our parents a cooling down period."

"Knowing me isn't safe for you," Max declared with finality. "I need us to go back to the way we were before I saved your life."

"I don't want to be safe if I can't be with you," Liz tearfully pleaded back.

Max hesitated in response to Liz's last appeal and then turned and walked away. Liz did not want to accept this decision, but the absence of any real relationship with Max denied her any way to undo it. Her hope had always been that Max would eventually act on his feelings for her. In the past she encouraged this with every meeting, with every look and with every word she spoke to him. The thought of losing all access to him was something that she did not want to consider. The events at White Sands played no part in her feelings towards him. Liz was every bit as hopeful that Max would take her into his arms as she had ever been.

Max's affinity for Liz was equally as strong at that moment. However, it was his concern for her well-being that ruled his every decision regarding her. Max knew that he could not alter who he was. And he believed that his future would someday be drastically affected by this fact. He feared that every close relationship he had would be negatively affected by this event, if and when it happened. This concern, more than anything else, made the thought of a relationship with Liz something that needed to be avoided, for her sake.

Over the next two weeks, Liz endured Max's indifference to her in silence. When they passed in the hall he barely did more than glance her way. In their biology glass, he did everything he could to stay apart from her and he avoided situations that would cause him to speak to her. And in the cafeteria he continued to maintain his distance. But it was a situation related to them that caused this all to change. When this came to light at the start of the third week Liz saw her way out from beneath Max's shun.

After their expedition to the White Sands Missile Range, Michael and Maria found it increasingly difficult to be anywhere near one-another without experiencing feelings of discomfort. They did not know how to act around each other. And they were desperate to know how the other was feeling. This was particularly bothersome for Maria. The sight of Michael looking at her gave her fears that he was probing into her thoughts. On two occasions she challenged him on this with an abrupt question.

"Are you in my head?" Maria roared at a whisper.

Both times Michael responded with an emphatic, and defensive, "no," with equal deference to amplitude.

It was not until the first Friday after their White Sands adventure that Michael and Maria began losing their constraint with regards to one-another. Their paths crossed in the hall, unexpectedly. They were accustomed to seeing each other at specific locations and times. They went through their daily school rituals on the lookout for these crossings. When Maria appeared in the hall outside of Michael's art class he was taken very much by surprise. He knew she should have been on the far side of the building, ensconced behind a desk in her geometry class.

Maria was equally surprised to see Michael in the hall. She knew he had a class there at this time. But she expected him to be in the classroom and not outside of it. The halls were nearly empty by then. Last minute arrivals were scrambling to get to their respective classes before they could be considered late. Maria gave no thought to the time. She was under assignment, by her teacher, to retrieve a triangle and a protractor from one of the drafting classrooms. The sight of Michael rummaging through his locker caused her to hesitate. When he returned her look, she froze altogether.

They stood there for all of five seconds, staring at each other. Everyone else in the hall was gone in half that time. At the end of this pause, Michael's ardor for Maria could no longer be constrained. He quickly closed his locker and rushed over to her. She caught her breath at the sight of his sudden approach. He took her by the hand and then turned and set off down the hall, pulling Maria along behind. She gave no resistant and made no complaints. Michael turned a corner and hurried halfway down the next hall to the eraser room. He pulled the door wide open with one hand and nearly tossed Maria into the room with the other. He immediately followed her in, pulling the door shut behind him. The instant they were secure behind the door, Michael grabbed Maria about her waist and pulled her into his embrace. She, in turn, threw her arms about his neck and began kissing him with wild abandon. Two seconds into this, Michael picked her up, two inches into the air, and spun her about so that she was pinned against the wall. They kissed and re-kissed. A minute later they were smooching each other's necks, shoulders, ears and chest with their lips. They panted and moaned as they ravaged one-another within the limits of their situation.

"How long do you have?" Michael questioned in between kisses and caresses.

"I have to get back to geometry," Maria panted back as she clung about his neck.

They continued kissing for thirty seconds more before either spoke another word.

"I have to see you," Michael huffed as he pressed himself against her and caressed her neck with his lips.

Maria moaned in response to his passion before puffing out the words, "I know."

"When," Michael whispered after another ten seconds of fondling her neck with his lips?

"Tomorrow, after work," Maria responded as she wrapped her right leg around his left and squeezed into his grasp. "I'll pick you up," she finished five seconds later.

"No," Michael exhaled a second later. "I have to help Max with his jeep."

"When," Maria whispered an instant before grasping Michael's head in her hands and kissing him hard upon the lips for three seconds?

Michael returned her kiss and then shifted his lips down onto her neck. He smooched and caressed her there for another five seconds before breaking away in a huff.

"Tomorrow night…, nine o'clock…, I'll meet you in front of the school."

"Okay," Maria exhaled at a whisper.

Maria kissed him again on the lips and the pushed away a second later.

"I have to go," Maria whispered as she backed away.

Michael nodded his head in agreement. Maria backed up to the door and grasped the knob while she gazed upon Michael. After a few seconds of longing stares, she turned the knob and pushed the door open just wide enough to stick her head. She peaked out into the hall and saw no one there. She then straightened her attire, took a last look at Michael and then hurried out of the eraser room and down the hall. Michael waited for half a dozen seconds before making his exit as well.

Michael and Maria rendezvoused as scheduled and spent two hours in the back seat of her car, at the Spring River Park and Zoo, wrapped in each other's embrace. The tight confines of the car made anything beyond heavy petting and kissing unworkable. This was frustrating to them both, but not altogether undesirable. Michael was reluctant to make any kind of commitment to Maria. And he feared a sexual relationship might lead to an accidental pregnancy. Maria was concerned along this same line, minus the prohibition on a commitment. However, despite this concern, they both knew that it was the Jetta that was keeping their relationship sex free.

Over the next week, Michael and Maria continued to meet in secret on a daily basis. The grounding of Max and Liz by their parents made this far easier to do then it would have been otherwise. They continued to make-out within the confines of Maria's car up to the limits that it would allow. There were no parts of their persons that the other was not allowed to explore. And there were several parts they chose to explore regularly, much to their frustration. By the end of the second weekend, Maria knew she was out of control. She knew that she needed the help of someone else to keep her lust in check.

"I need to tell you something. I need your help," Maria confessed to Liz as she pulled her Jetta into a parking space outside of Roswell High School.

It was the Monday morning start of Max's and Liz's the third week of grounding. Liz had no idea what Maria had to tell her. But the seriousness of Maria's expression quickly engendered her interest and concern.

"Help with what?" Liz questioned with a startled look on her face.

Maria hesitated to answer for lack of knowing what words to use. Liz noted this with a look of surprise and curiosity.

"I'm having a problem with Michael," Maria carefully phrased.

"Michael Guerin?" Liz blurted out in shock. "What did he do?"

"It's not that serious," Maria shrugged off in response to Liz's reaction. "Well it is kind of serious I suppose," Maria tentatively corrected after a second of thought.

"Well, what did he do, Maria?" Liz questioned in a voice heavy with concern.

"The thing is, Liz," Maria began defensively. "I don't need your help so much for what he's doing. This is more about what I'm doing."

"So Michael isn't doing anything. It's you," Liz asked with a look of total confusion.

"Well, it's me and him," Maria corrected with a shake of her head.

"What did he do, Maria?" Liz demanded more than questioned.

Maria was rattled a little by the tone of Liz's expression. She hesitated only long enough to recompose herself and then gently gave her answer one word at a time.

"Michael and I are having trouble keeping our lips off of one-another."

"What?" Liz screamed in complete shock.

"We've been making out," Maria clarified a second behind.

"You've been having sex?" Liz rifled back with surprise.

"No," Maria corrected with a shocked expression. "But I kinda need your help in that."

"You want to have sex with him," Liz leaded to Maria.

"It's chemical," Maria responded in an excited tone. "When I'm around him I just lose control."

Liz was stunned and excited by this confession. She could not help but grin at the exhilarated expression on Maria's face.

"How long has this been going on?" Liz eagerly inquired.

"Ever since White Sands," Maria answered back.

"You're kidding," Liz countered with a grin.

"On the drive back we stopped for some food," Maria explained with a thrilled expression. "Then we got to arguing and the next thing I knew I was in his lap trying to suck the lips off his face."

Liz laughed at this after an, "oh my God."

Maria spent the next two seconds silently grinning while shaking her hands.

At the end of this Maria pleaded, "You have to help me with this, Liz?"

"Me," Liz questioned with a bewildered expression? "What do you want me to do?"

"You need to keep me grounded," Maria insisted as she grabbed Liz's arm and shook it. "You need to remind me that I'm too young to be a mother or to have stretch marks."

Liz continued to grin at every word that Maria spoke.

"I have another year of high school to do," Maria continued to implore. "I don't want to walk across that stage sporting a baby bump."

"I don't believe this," Liz blurted out and then began to laugh even louder.

"You have to be my abstinence coach," Maria insisted with exaggerated desperation.

"Your, what," Liz grinned back?

"You have to do this for me, Liz," Maria insisted after grabbing Liz by the arm with both hands.

"Okay, okay," Liz agreed after a moment of sober introspection. "But on one condition."

"What's that," Maria questioned with a look of curiosity?

"You have to tell him to sit with you at lunch or you'll stop seeing him," Liz answered with a straight face.

Maria quickly discerned the motive behind this and gave Liz a stern look as a result.

"This isn't about Michael," Maria pointed out with a look of comprehension. "This is about Max."

"You can't let him get away with it," Liz quickly countered. "He wants to be with you. But he wants to keep it a secret. Maria, you can't let him ignore you in public, or sit with his back to you in the cafeteria. You deserve better than that."

Maria took a moment to consider Liz's words and then responded with an upbeat, "Okay, I do deserve better."

After a smile of agreement with a nod of their heads, Maria and Liz exited the car and went into the school. Maria gave Michael her ultimatum straightaway, before the start of first period class. Despite this demand, she continued to keep their past trysts a private affair. Liz, however, did not feel inclined to be equally as secretive. There was one person in particular that she wanted to know about this, Max. She believed this could be a game changer, and she was anxious to try it out. To stay within the boundary of his indifference, Liz continued to say as little as possible to Max. But when he and Michael were together when she walked by in the hall during the break between her second and third period class, Liz took the time to call out a, "hi Michael," with a hint of a grin.

"What's that about?" Max questioned Michael regarding Liz's new familiarity with him.

"It's nothing," Michael shrugged off before walking away quickly.

Max instantly detected that this was not the truth and pulled Michael into the boy's washroom for a private discussion.

"What's going on, Michael and don't tell me nothing," Max sternly queried after leading Michael to the far wall from the door.

"Okay," Michael exclaimed in response to Max's insistence. "I've been kind of seeing Maria, off and on."

"You and Maria," Max questioned with a stunned expression?

"It just happened, Max," Michael retorted with an annoyed inflection.

"How long has this been going on?" Max questioned with disbelief.

"It started when we went to White Sands and then it kind of took off a week later," Michael explained hesitantly.

"It kind of took off," Max parroted back to him.

"Yes, Max," Michael bellowed back with an annoyed inflection. "I like her. I don't know how. I don't know why. I just do and I'm having trouble controlling it."

"Michael," Max partially pleaded. "You have to stop seeing her."

Michael took a moment to ponder this as he pouted. He gave his reply at the end of this.

"Okay, maybe…"

"What does that mean?" Max challenged with stern tone.

Michael paused to physically act out his feeling of frustration with a toss of his hands in the air and a turn of his head. When he turned back to face Max, he gave his explanation.

"She says she won't see me anymore if I don't sit with her at lunch."

"So, you're not sitting with her?" Max quickly queried back.

Michael briefly paused to consider the question before responding in an angry voice.

"No, Max, I'm not going to sit with her at lunch."

Max was not completely convinced by his answer. But he accepted it anyway.

At their lunch hour, Michael was the last to arrive in the cafeteria. And true to his word, he walked past Maria and Liz, and sat down opposite Max. He took note of Maria's disheartened expression as he did this. After two minutes at the table with Max, he reversed this decision with a shake of his head and a toss of his hands.

"Don't do it, Michael," Max quickly insisted.

"What's it going to hurt, Max?" Michael quickly challenged back.

"You're the one who told me that I shouldn't become involved with Liz," Max exclaimed at nearly a whisper.

"Well that was before she knew. Now she knows." Michael responded an instant before standing up with his tray. "Besides, Max, everybody knows that there's something going on between you and Liz. Trying to hide it just makes you look like a dork." Michael finished in a soft voice.

Michael took his tray over to the small round table where Maria and Liz were sitting and stopped just behind one of the two open chairs there. He stood there just long enough to huff out a breath of air and give Maria and Liz an exasperated look. They, in turn, gave him smiles of satisfaction. Michael then put his tray down and sat down in the open chair. A minute later, Max followed his lead and took the last open seat at the round table for four. Half a dozen students noted their move with curiosity. Not least among them was Kyle Valenti.

"Now, was that so hard?" Liz questioned with a grin.

Max answered with a modest, "no," and then turned his attention to his food.

At that moment, an echo of Isabel's thinking reverberated across the room and slammed into the thoughts of Michael and Max.

_You two have got to be kidding me_.


	30. Chapter 30 Speculations, Revelations

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 30: Speculations, Revelations and Summations

It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when Lieutenant Ryan Kawecki was summoned to General Pittman's office. He had been half expecting a second invitation to be grilled by him. Ryan knew that his latest report regarding Lieutenant Hytner expanded the mystery about the fourteen children she took personal charge of and did nothing to identify them. And, subsequently, did nothing to bring the enigma of her life to an end. If it did anything, it likely did the opposite.

Ryan spent two weeks with the FBI searching for the unknown fourteen children that Jill Hytner took such an unusual interest in. After turning in his report, he spent another two weeks working other projects while anticipating his latest work on Lieutenant Hytner to come back on him. After a week of nothing, he started to believe that this project was behind him. He was not especially pleased about this. His curiosity still wanted an answer for the questions he created. But he suspected that those answers were trivial and that this whole investigation was a waste of his skills.

When Ryan received word that afternoon that General Pittman wanted to see him, he knew his Hytner report was back on his plate, at least for the duration of this meeting. He could think of no other reason why the General would want to see him. Everything he had worked on since Hytner was routine and had no unanswered questions. Just the same, he could not imagine what more the General wanted from him. The FBI did a thorough search for the fourteen children. His only function in this was to write a report that said, in effect, the FBI could find no evidence to support the claim that these fourteen children ever existed. Halfway to General Pittman's office, Ryan could feel himself tensing up in anticipation of being harangued about the unanswered inconsistencies he authored in his original report on this former nurse's life.

Five minutes later Ryan entered the reception area outside of General Pittman's office. A fairly attractive female Airman First Class promptly got up from behind her desk and went to the front of General Pittman's office door before acknowledging his entry.

"The General is waiting for you," she reported blandly.

The Airman opened the door as Ryan approached and ushered him into the office. Ryan walked into the room and came to an erect stop in front of General Pittman's desk, just opposite the door on the far side of the room. He instantly noted that there were three other men in the room, seated in chairs and a small sofa around a coffee table in a small lounge area to the left side of the office. They were all in civilian clothing and he knew none of them. He ignored them as best he could and kept his attention straight ahead. General Pittman was seated comfortably behind his desk, in uniform, with his legs crossed.

"General," Ryan acknowledged with a sharp salute.

General Pittman returned his salute halfheartedly as he uncrossed his legs and stood.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Pittman instructed as he walked around his desk and towards the three men sitting comfortably off to the left side of the office.

Ryan followed his lead with two steps to his right. He was then facing the three men directly. From this straight on vantage he had a much better view of the three men. Two of them were still unfamiliar to him. But the third, a tall graying man with a full head of hair looking to be in his mid to late fifties, looked like someone he had seen before. The other two men looked to be older than he, at least by a decade.

"Lieutenant, I would like you to meet Lieutenant General Glen Snyder; Retired, Lieutenant General Spencer Garber; Retired and Deputy Secretary of Defense Kevin Bartley," Pittman introduced as he directed to each with a gesture of his hand.

"Sirs," Ryan acknowledged with a nod.

Ryan recalled seeing a photo of the Deputy Secretary of Defense and understood that this was why he looked familiar. But the other two gentlemen he was better familiar with by reputation. Both had at one time held the position of Air Force Deputy Chief of Staff for Intelligence.

"Gentlemen, this is the young officer that we've been discussing," Pittman reported to the group.

The three men gave him no acknowledgement as they gauged him with their eyes.

"Have a seat, Lieutenant," Pittman instructed as he took a seat in one of the two open chairs there.

Ryan promptly took the last seat situated there around the coffee table. He noted two file folders sitting on top of the table. A pen was sitting atop one of them. He suspected that they in some way would pertain to what was about to happen here. But he had no idea how that would be so. The three men continued to study him as he situated himself. After five seconds of uncomfortable silence, for Ryan, Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley spoke up with a question.

"Lieutenant, in one of your reports you mention fourteen children, all two years of age, seven boys and seven girls, where do you think these children came from?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," Ryan responded with a blank expression. "I don't know that."

"I'm not asking you about what you know, Lieutenant," Bartley rifled back. "I want to know what you think."

"Sir, I have no idea who these children are or where they came from. I just find it strange that Lieutenant Hytner should attach so much value to them," Ryan answered blandly.

"Well, she was working in a children's home. Isn't that what people who work in children's homes do?" General Snyder questioned while holding a stare on him.

"It was out of character for Lieutenant Hytner," Ryan reported without hesitation.

"And you know this because you've spent …what, three weeks studying this woman's life?" General Garber questioned with an annoyed edge to his tone.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan nearly grumbled back.

Ryan did not like where this conversation was going. He did not like being cross examined and criticized about a project that he never asked for. And he certainly did not like having the integrity of his work challenged with veiled accusations.

"You've brought up a lot of questions about the life choices that Lieutenant Hytner made. But you haven't given one reason why we should care about any of them. Why is that?" General Snyder continued to hold his stare on Ryan with his second question.

"With all due respect Sir, I don't know why an ex Lieutenant in the Nurse Corps should require any attention at all. I'm simply doing the job given to me," Ryan responded with a hint of defiance.

"What is it about Lieutenant Hytner that made you so suspicious about her life?" Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley queried with a look of intrigue.

"She is …she was a very smart, disciplined and motivated person from what I can tell by reading the reports about her," Ryan began with an introspective look. "She knew what she wanted and how to get it. And then, suddenly, she threw away the plan that she made for her life."

"Is that so unbelievable?" Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley questioned back.

"I wouldn't," Ryan returned short and direct. "There would have to be some major event in my life to cause me to chuck out my whole life plan for myself."

"So she reminds you of you?" Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley casually questioned back.

"Yes," Ryan answered with a word.

General Pittman had nothing to say in this question and answer session. He had been looking back and forth between the participants with a mildly interested expression. At this point, the other members of this group appeared too had hit a dead end. A lull fell over the questioning as each of them looked to the others for the lead. After a short pause, Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley initiated a new inquiry.

"What was your take on the nondisclosure agreement that Lieutenant Hytner signed?"

Ryan was made slightly confused by this question. He briefly looked to General Pittman for an explanation. He quickly noted that he was getting no assistance from him. He then turned back to Bartley and gave the only answered that applied.

"I wasn't aware that she had signed any nondisclosure agreements."

"Come-on, Lieutenant," General Garber jumped in with a mildly aggressive tone. "You're telling me that in all of your research concerning this woman you didn't come across any information about a three-twelve form that she signed?"

"No, Sir," Ryan answered sharply. "I had no information regarding any such event."

"But someone told you that she had access to information that would require that she be a signatory to a three-twelve?" General Snyder queried in an off the cuff manner.

Ryan glanced at General Pittman once again. Still there was no change in his manner to suggest that he was going to assist in the answering of these questions. Shortly he turned back to General Snyder to give his reply.

"I was given no information regarding any activity that looked to warrant a three-twelve form."

Ryan was suddenly aware that he was, for the first time, getting information that would explain why Lieutenant Hytner was so important to the Defense Intelligence Analysis Division of the Air Force. He glanced back and forth at the four high ranking officers and official sitting nearby and noted that they were studying him closely. After a short pause, Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley tossed out a declaration in a mildly pleasant voice.

"This is not an inquisition, Lieutenant. You're in no trouble. In fact we would be impressed with your investigative skills if you did get access to this information."

Ryan knew right away that this was a trap. But it made no difference to him. He had no information on this subject.

"Sirs, I have no knowledge of a three-twelve form or any activity in Lieutenant Hytner's past that would warrant such a form," Ryan retorted with finality.

Once again Ryan noticed that the Generals and the Deputy Secretary of Defense were looking to each other for how or if to proceed. After a short pause, Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley gave General Pittman a slight affirmative nod. As soon as he did this, General Pittman reached down, picked up the pen from off the folder on the coffee table, opened the folder and pushed it toward Ryan.

"I'll need you to sign this before we precede, Lieutenant," General Pittman advised as he extended the pen towards him.

Ryan took the pen, glanced around at the men watching him and then he looked down at the document. He instantly recognized it was a three-twelve, Classified Information Nondisclosure Document. He paused only long enough to note this and then he signed at the bottom. Immediately after doing so, he put the pen down and pushed the open folder over to General Pittman so that he could verify his signature. He, in turn, did just that and closed the folder a second later. After sitting back in his chair, Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley began to speak again.

"Everything we tell you from here on is Top Secret. You are not to speak of it to anyone other than someone in this room, and then only when asked to. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Ryan answered with a nod of understanding.

Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley turned his attention to General Snyder. Ryan followed his lead and noted that the General was preparing to speak.

"In 1947 Lieutenant Hytner was present at the interrogation of an E-B-E, an extraterrestrial biological entity, at the then Roswell Army Air Field."

General Snyder paused to note Ryan's reaction. He, in turn, glanced at the several pair of eyes watching him. He saw nothing in their expression to suggest that they were being anything less than serious. He then fixed his attention back onto General Snyder. He, in turn, continued with his report.

"During the course of this event, Lieutenant Hytner fainted. She recovered approximately five minutes later and was watched for several weeks following this incident. She showed no ill effects from the event and was returned to her regular duties."

Once again there is a lull in this briefing as everyone there studied Ryan's reaction to the report up to this point. Ryan looked to each of them, one after the other, for some explanation behind this report before questioning them directly several seconds later.

"I don't understand."

After another brief pause, Deputy Secretary of Defense Bartley reached down and opened the second folder. As he did this he began speaking about its contents.

"An unusual specimen of blood came into our possession a short time ago," Deputy Secretary Bartley reported as he pushed the folder towards Ryan. "The owner of this blood is a sixteen year old living in Roswell, New Mexico. The same age that one of your two year olds would be right now. We found a medical record that lists this child as being adopted from the Holcomb Children's Home at the age of two. But we haven't been able to find a matching record from them."

Ryan picked up the folder and began reading the report inside with great interest.

"Every geneticist, every biological engineer that has examined this blood is telling us that this teenager is several thousands of generations more advanced than any human known to exist on the planet."

"Could this be a fluke," Ryan questioned as he continued to examine the document in his hands.

"They say no," Bartley continued calmly. "The markers are all wrong. They tell us that this …_person_… was engineered and that the science that did this is far beyond anything we are capable of."

Ryan looked up at Deputy Secretary Bartley and noted this last statement with a look of astonishment. He then turned his attention back to the document and read on for another minute in silence. At the end of this time he looked up at Deputy Secretary of Defense Kevin Bartley with a look of disbelief. As soon as he did this, Bartley began to speak again in a very blunt manner.

"As of now you are Captain Kawecki. You're attached to this office. You report directly to General Pittman. Is that okay with you, Captain?"

"Yes, Sir," Ryan quickly acknowledged.

"Congratulations, Captain," Bartley acknowledged an instant before standing up.

Generals Snyder and Garber followed his lead and got up onto their feet. Ryan and General Pittman got up as well.

"General Pittman," Bartley spoke politely. "I will be expecting to hear from you."

"Yes, Sir," Pittman acknowledged with a nod.

Deputy Secretary Bartley and Generals Snyder and Garber went to the office door and left the room without fanfare. Ryan watched them leave a little perplexed about what he would be doing. He turned to General Pittman for the answer to that question. He had just returned to his position behind his desk.

"Sir, what will we be doing?"

"Our job, Captain, is to find the remaining thirteen," General Pittman calmly replied as he comfortably situated himself into his chair.

"Will we be arresting them?"

"No," Pittman answered reflectively. "We don't want this to go public, Captain. After we've found them, we'll work out a plan to collect them, after they're out from under the protection of the public school system."

"And the parents," Ryan questioned an instant behind.

"We'll deal with them when the time comes."


	31. Chapter 31 Rising Trepidations

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 31: Rising Trepidations

It was a quarter past ten on a Tuesday Morning when Jim Valenti entered the Crash-Down Café. The restaurant had yet to fill up with its lunch time crowd. There were only eight patrons inside who were either eating or waiting to be served. He strolled cautiously through the dining area, in his Sheriff uniform, taking note of the faces inside. After stopping in front of the bar he took a seat there and waited less than thirty seconds for a waitress to approach and request his order.

"I'll have a coffee, and could you tell Jeff Parker that Jim Valenti would like to speak to him if he's a got a minute."

She filled his coffee order first, with a smile, and then set off for the kitchen to fulfill his request. Jim had no reason to believe that the waitress knew who he was. His only visit to the Crash-Down was on the day that Liz was shot there. He was accustomed to people recognizing him from pictures in the local papers. But he never assumed this to be the case. He learned from experience that a large population of people paid no attention to the news.

The waitress returned less than a minute later and told him that Jeff was coming out. A little more than two minutes from then, Jeff Parker emerged from kitchen sporting a smile.

"How are you doing, Jim?" Jeff greeted pleasantly from the opposite side of the bar. "What can I do you for?"

Jeff Parker was dressed in a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans. This was his normal attire for work. Tall, six-feet four-inches; and thin, Jeff was a fairly handsome man who looked to have been far more so in his past. As a teenager his primary preoccupation was music. The drums were his instruments of choice. His secondary preoccupation was girls. It was these two interests that kept him and Jim Valenti apart throughout high school. Jim, a dedicated athlete, had little interest in music and was only interested in girls one at a time.

"Sorry to bother you at work, Jeff," Jim countered politely. "I was hoping we could touch base on a few things if you have a couple of minutes to spare."

"Sure," Jeff quickly agreed with a mildly interested look. "Let's take a table."

Jeff walked quickly around the bar and led Jim to table that was sufficiently removed from all the other occupants of the restaurant.

"Is this an official visit?" Jeff inquired a second after they both were seated.

"Oh no," Jim quickly deflected with a slight wave of his hand. "This is more of a neighbor to neighbor chat," he corrected with a smile.

In reality this was more of a personal visit than a professional one. Jim had chosen this time of day to speak with Jeff because he knew Liz would be at school. This was not a major factor in this visit. But he saw no reason to alert her that he was having meetings with her parents.

"Well that's awfully neighborly of you, Sheriff Valenti," Jeff retorted with a grin.

Jim was equally amused by the comment and sported a wide smile in response to it. Two seconds later he commented about it.

"Hey, I'm just as surprised about the job as you are."

"I never said I was surprised," Jeff quickly spoke back with a smile. "You always did have that drive to excel."

"You see, that's where you're wrong," Jim corrected with a shake of his head. "You were the one with the drive to excel. I was always just trying to get over the hurdle in front of me. It never mattered to me what that hurdle was," he pondered out introspectively. After a second of thought he finished with a conclusion that he just came to, "I have a low tolerance for obstacles."

"Well, that mindset seems to have served you well," Jeff acknowledged with an affirmative nod of his head. "But I, on the other hand, never had that drive," he continued with a negative nod.

"You had the dream," Jim responded with an excited expression. "You had your music and your plan to be a rock star."

"Yeah, it was more dream than plan," Jeff mused back. "I was always in the moment back then," he continued in a confessing tone. "Enjoying life as it came... But eventually we all have to give up our dreams and get down to the business of managing our lives."

"Well, speaking as someone that never had a dream to pursue, I'm going to have to take your word for that," Jim grudgingly acquiesced.

"Well, here I am," Jeff tossed out with his hands extended, palm up, in front of him. "Managing a restaurant..."

"Hey, there's not a day that goes by where I don't wish I had a small business of my own," Jim retaliated with a bewildered expression.

"Don't even try and make me believe that you would give up your job for this," Jeff rifled back with a grin.

"You have no idea what I have to put up with daily," Jim grinned back with a wave off of his hands.

"Are you kidding me," Jeff countered with a shocked expression. "I deal with the general public all day, every day."

"Small potatoes my friend," Jim dismissed with a grin and a nod. "I have a line of people, some of whom are my superiors, lined up to gnaw on my backside every day."

"Okay, I give up," Jeff surrendered with a laugh. "I guess we're all stuck with the lives that we lead."

"Here, here," Jim agreed with a smile and nod.

"So, I know you didn't come here to reminisce," Jeff tossed out with a smile. "Is there something happening I should know about?"

Jeff had already dismissed the idea that Jim was there to report some bad news about his daughter. He knew his job as the Sheriff of Chaves County was too far removed from investigating juveniles for him to be there in his capacity as an officer of the law. And he also knew that if anything of a personal nature had happened with regards to Liz that would have been the first thing he mentioned.

"Actually," Jim began with an introspective pause. "That's my question to you."

"So, you are here to talk about Liz," Jeff concluded out loud. "What are you not telling me?" He questioned a second behind.

"Right now, my primary worry isn't Liz," Jim began cautiously. "I'm a little concerned for Amy DeLuca's daughter."

"Maria?" Jeff questioned back sharply.

Jim concurred with a nod as Jeff paused to comprehend this.

"Has something happened with Maria?" Jeff questioned a second later.

"Apparently she's been keeping company with Michael Guerin, the close friend of Max Evans," Jim explained reservedly. "They've been seen parking around Spring River Park. One of my officers had to chase them out of there last Saturday. Amy is a friend and I'm just trying to decide if I should put her on her guard. You know Amy?" Jim quickly questioned at the end.

"Yes," Jeff quickly confirmed. "She's in here once or twice a month I'd guess. She and Nancy are good friends."

Jeff paused for two seconds to ponder the information that he had just received. At the end of this he asked a clarifying question.

"So, you're asking if we've seen anything that Amy should be concerned about."

Jim noted Jeff's confusion and quickly decided to clear things up for him.

"Kyle tells me that your daughter, along with Maria, Max Evans and this Michael Guerin kid have become a small clique at school. Kyle still likes Liz and he worries about her. He thinks there's something going on, between them, that is improper. Now this could just be Kyle overreacting about being dumped. And I understand that. And I'm sorry if I'm worrying you. I've been debating with myself for two days now if I should even bring this up with you."

"No," Jeff quickly spoke up with an alarmed expression. "I want to hear this."

"You should know that I haven't heard anything about Liz and this Max Evans kid."

"Liz has been grounded ever since the White Sands thing," Jeff grumbled back with a look of grave concern.

"Well, that's one of the reasons why I thought I should talk to you," Jim continued in a soft voice. "The White Sands thing never made sense to me. I've never heard of teenagers driving one-hundred miles outside of the city just to go sightseeing. My instinct tells me that something else was going on there. And the fact that they're keeping this a secret makes me all the more concerned."

Jeff listened to Jim's thinking with great interest and growing concern.

"That, plus this close friendship between Max Evans and Michael Guerin," Jim continued to explain. "I just thought I should check and see if you've seen anything different about the way Maria or Liz has been acting. Like I said, Amy is a friend and I'm just trying to decide if I should say something to her or leave it alone."

"You think its drugs," Jeff questioned with a commanding inflection.

"I'm trying to rule that out," Jim confessed reluctantly.

"What about the test the Air Force did on that Max Evans boy?" Jeff demanded more than questioned.

"They lost it," Jim responded with a bewildered nod of his head.

"Sons of a bitch," Jeff grumbled in response. 


	32. Chapter 32 Passions of the Night

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 32: Passions of the Night

It was the Saturday evening before the week of Spring Break. Liz had gotten a one week and one day reprieve from her grounding, effective as of that day. There were several things that went into bringing this about. The Spring Break from school was one of them. Nancy, far more so than Jeff, was feeling guilty about Liz sitting out the week. There was also the fact that Liz's grades at school had returned to their normal heights of excellence. This was due entirely to the fact that Max and she were socially interacting at school. Liz found it easier to concentrate on her classes because of this. There was also the matter of the random search of Liz's room the Tuesday just past. The resulting argument, hurt feelings and resentment, on top of the fact that no drugs, or evidence of same, were found, put Nancy and Jeff in a penitent mood. And then there was the matter of Maria being home alone for the evening and in need of some company while she completed a book report. Jeff relented to the one week suspension of the grounding, put forth by Nancy, without any need for persuasion from Liz.

"So, why aren't you and Michael out doing whatever it is you do on Saturday nights?" Liz questioned shortly after settling in for her evening stay.

"A cop ran us out of Spring River Park last week," Maria confessed with a shake of her head.

"You're kidding," Liz laughed. "Spring River Park, is that where you've been going?"

"Yeah," Maria confirmed with an exaggerated look of bewilderment. "Where else…?"

"Nothing," Liz replied with a nod and a smile.

Maria and Liz were situated at the dining room table with books, pens and paper in front of them, along with slices of pizza and soft drinks.

"Plus, I want to get this book report done so I can enjoy the rest of the week," Maria reported as she scanned the open book in front of her.

"Okay," Liz acknowledged with a hint of surprise.

"Okay, what?" Maria challenged.

"I'm just surprised that I'm the one here and not Michael," Liz explained behind a restrained grin.

"I know," Maria laughed. "I told Michael I was going to Albuquerque with mom just to keep him away."

"Why did you do that?" Liz asked with a look of surprise.

"Liz, I have the whole house to myself," Maria answered with a shocked expression. "This isn't the Jetta."

Liz and Maria openly laughed at this and then there was a knock at the front door. Maria went to answer it and promptly opened the door. To her surprise, it was Michael standing on the other side. She could think of nothing to say at that moment and stood staring for two seconds with a look of confusion. Michael noted that his unannounced appearance had made her speechless and stepped through the doorway ahead of being asked. Maria moved back to the center of the living-room with a stunned expression on her face. Liz had by then risen from her chair and was standing just to the right and a step back from Maria.

"Hi, Liz," Michael softly greeted with a glance her way.

"Hi, Michael," Liz answered pleasantly.

"What are you doing here?" Maria questioned with a shocked inflection.

"I watched your mom leave," Michael gently replied after locking his gaze onto Maria's eyes.

"You were watching my house?" Maria questioned back with more than a hint of alarm.

"I was kinda in the neighborhood," Michael replied hesitantly.

"So, you're stalking me," Maria queried with a look of astonishment. "You're a stalker."

"I just wanted to see you off," Michael responded defensively.

"My mom left over an hour ago," Maria rifled back. "What were you doing all that time, spying on me?

"I went to the store, alright" Michael quickly answered with irritation in his tone. "I needed to get something."

Maria had some idea what that meant and fixed her stare onto Michael as she caught her breath. She and Michael maintained a fixed stare on one-another through three seconds of silence. At the end of this time, Liz spoke up to fill the quiet.

"We were just working on a book report for school."

"I think we're done," Maria suddenly announced without breaking her visual connection with Michael.

He too was holding eye contact on her. What they were not saying was evident in their expressions. Liz noted this only too clearly and suddenly remembered her promise not to leave Maria alone with Michael outside of the Jetta.

"No, I think we have some more to do," Liz tentatively contradicted.

"I've got it, Liz," Maria countermanded with authority as she continued to look upon Michael.

"Yes, but I think I should _coach_ you on something before going," Liz slowly returned with extra emphasis on the word coach.

Maria sharply turned her head towards Liz at the end of this remark and responded to it with a blunt statement.

"Liz, get out."

"Okay," Liz responded with an amused expression.

Liz quickly gathered up what few things she brought with her and hurried out the front, tossing out a good bye as she went. Maria and Michael paid no attention to her as they continued to hold their stares. Five seconds after Liz shut the door behind her; Maria took a deep breath, let it out with an audible blow and then spoke the thought she was thinking.

"Tell me you brought protection."

Without saying a word, Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out a string of five condoms. Maria took one look at them, raced over to Michael, took him by the wrist and pulled him through the house and into her bedroom. Late that night, she sneaked him out the back door as her mother was entering through the front.

_Line Break_

"So, how was your evening," Liz questioned with a large smile the next morning.

"I told you not to leave me alone with him," Maria complained with an exaggerated expression of disbelief.

"Maria, you told me to get out," Liz countered with a look of shock.

Liz and Maria were in the back of the Crash-Down preparing for their work day.

"You were supposed to protect me from myself," Maria complained halfheartedly.

"You almost took my head off, Maria" Liz protested with a grin.

"If I could have done it by myself I wouldn't have asked for your help," Maria replied in an exasperated tone of voice.

"You know what," Liz began with a large smile. "I'm out of it. You and Michael are going to have to work it out on your own."

Liz and Maria went through the remainder of the day happily grinning about the events of the night before as they traded looks and innuendos. This good humor did not last long after that morning for Liz. Maria and Michael were nearly inseparable for the next five days. Liz felt too out of place to be with Maria when she and Michael were together. This, plus the sight of other couples sent Liz into a mild depression. And what made this even worse was the fact that the person she most wanted to be with was resisting his feelings towards her.

When Saturday morning came around a rumor regarding a Rave was gaining a lot of momentum within the teenage population of Roswell. These types of reports were common and often turned out to be false. But the strength of this rumor grew stronger as the day progressed. By late that afternoon Maria was intrigued to the point of excited. She had never been to a Rave before and was eager to attend this one, if it was in fact going to be. What made this all the more a doable activity was the prospect of Michael being her escort.

Raves had a notorious reputation for violence, drugs, alcohol and sex. They often ended with Sheriff Deputies raiding the event and arresting several of its attendees. It was for this reason that Raves were highly secretive events. The, would be, attendees of these events had to negotiate their way through a maze of riddles that only a trusted few were given the starting point for. As the night wore on the location of the Rave became more widespread through word of mouth advertising. There were not many young ladies who would attend a Rave alone. And when they were unescorted by a date, they often went in groups.

Late that Saturday afternoon, Maria put the offer of a night of music and excitement to Michael. To her surprise he declined in favor of their usual evening of kissing and heavy petting in the back seat of her Jetta.

"This only happens once every two or three years," Maria complained with a look of astonishment.

"Yeah, and for every Rave that actually happens there are ten that turn out to be hoaxes," Michael complained back. "Who wants to go to a silly party in some abandoned building anyway?"

"I do," Maria bellowed back.

They disputed the idea for several minutes more. Once it became obvious to Maria that Michael was not about to entertain any part of her wishes, she angrily cut their evening short with the promise that she and Liz would attend the Rave without him. Michael was confused by her reaction, but not at all angry. The minds of women were a total mystery to him and he had no idea what was so important about a Rave. In his mind these events were about a bunch of strangers listening to loud, incomprehensible, music while under the effects of alcohol and drugs. He thought making out in the back of her Jetta was a far more entertaining way to spend the evening. With her absence for that activity, Michael felt he had no choice but to seek out his only male friend, Max.

"What are you doing here," Max questioned testily as Michael walked up the driveway to his house. "Shouldn't you be off somewhere with Maria right now?"

"She's mad at me," Michael confessed dryly. "And why should you care? You're grounded."

Max was in the process of affixing a new radiator hose to his jeep when Michael arrived.

"Not anymore," Max dryly answered back. "Mom and dad cut me loose earlier today. I tried calling you at home, but you weren't there."

"What can I say, Max," Michael complained sarcastically. "My daddy isn't rich. I don't have a cellphone."

"We could have taken a hike through the next search area," Max retaliated with a hint of exasperation. "But no, you were out chasing Maria," he grumbled aloud. "What happens when it all falls apart, Michael?" He questioned softly with a stern look. "What happens when we have to leave?"

"I'm sorry, Max," Michael gently answered back. "I took a time out to have a life."

"That's just it, Michael," Max mumbled under his breath. "I'm not sure we have a life here."

"I know, Max. I know," Michael whispered back. "Apparently I'm not made of granite like you."

Max ignored the comment as he went back to tightening the clasps about the new radiator hose. A minute later the task was completed and Max backed away from the engine.

"So, what did you fight about?" Max questioned respectfully.

"There's a rumor about a Rave and she wanted to waste the night looking for it," Michael responded

"She wanted you to take her?" Max asked more than stated.

"It's a waste of time, Max," Michael retorted with a dubious inflection.

"Not according to Isabel," Max corrected as he closed the hood of the jeep. "She says it's in that abandoned soap factory building."

"She sure about that…?" Michael questioned with a stunned expression.

Max noted the concern on his face and turned his full attention to it before answering.

"That's what she said, why?"

"Maria said she was going to look for it with Liz," Michael reported to Max with a point.

Max stopped to ponder this report with a look of concern on his face.

"We've got to go find them, Max" Michael instructed two seconds later.

Max agreed to this after another two seconds of thought. After another two minutes of preparation, they were on the road and on their way to the abandoned soap factory.

Max's prohibition against escalating his relationship with Liz was no match for his concern for her well-being. The reputations that the Raves had gave him reason to worry. He knew that the odds were against any harm coming to Liz. But he wanted to be there to make sure that this would be the case.

_Line Break_

Maria had no trouble in convincing Liz to go out with her to search for the Rave. Liz was in the need for some distraction from her thoughts. The return of Maria's company was a welcome sight. And a Rave was a notorious event that most teenagers in Roswell felt compelled to experience as a rite of passage. At a quarter before ten o'clock at night, Liz and Maria were rolling towards the abandoned soap factory. Their search was over. The sound of music and people could be heard from more than a block away.

Maria parked her car nearly half a block away from the building. She and Liz then got out of the vehicle with more than a little apprehension. There were other people moving towards the building and they shortly joined in with the wave teenagers searching for the source of the loud Rock Music.

The building was dingy and decrepit. There were no locked doors or barred windows to block anyone's entrance. And there were no lights attached to the building to illuminate any part of the structure. There was a string of Christmas lights guiding the way into the building. And there was a glow of light from within beaming out through the cracks of the porous building. Maria and Liz made their way through to the interior of the building and found a large room with better than one-hundred people inside. A rock band on top of a makeshift stage was playing music. A dozen work lights were attached, haphazardly, about the perimeter of the room. Numerous electrical extension cords strewn about the sides of the room connected the lights to a generator in a connecting room behind the stage.

The onlookers to the band were dancing and gyrating to the music with ecstatic enthusiasm. More than a dozen Styrofoam coolers, situated at the back of the room, supplied the occupants with libations of all kinds. Liz and Maria moved about the perimeter of this excitement with a feeling of enjoyment at being a part of this event. They clung to each other's hand and gazed at the event with bright smiles and wide-eyed amazement. This went on for better than ten minutes and then, suddenly, Liz's amusement was gone. Michael stepped in front of them and Maria released her hand.

Liz knew at that moment that she was alone. She watched as Michael led Maria away, hand in hand, to a location just outside of the large room. She could see how happy Maria was to see him, and how willingly she followed his lead. It was at this moment that Liz took notice of the numerous couples within the room. She was suddenly depressed again and the expression on her face clearly showed it. Suddenly she felt a hand move into hers and she looked over her right shoulder to view its owner.

"Hi," Max announced softly with a hint of a smile.

"Hi," Liz responded with a clearly visible smile.

She turned towards him and gripped his hand tighter as she gazed into his eyes. Max responded to the affection in her look with an even greater smile. Two seconds into this, he quickly glanced about them for a place that they could go. He noted a vacant patch of floor behind an obstruction to a view of the stage. He led Liz towards it with a pull of her hand. She followed willingly, eagerly. He came to a stop in the empty space and then he turned to look at Liz face on. He locked his gaze onto her eyes and she did likewise. Slowly he brought his hands up and cupped her head between them. Liz moved in closer until there was no space between them. She then tilted her head back and pushed up on her toes in anticipation of what was to come next. Max then bent forward towards her as carefully as he could. And then they kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed.

Max and Liz enjoyed the Rave and each other for another thirty minutes, up until the moment that the Sheriff Department raced in to stop the party. At least a dozen Deputy Sheriff Cars, with lights and sirens on, swarmed in on the abandoned soap factory from all sides. They immediately began to arrest anyone they could get their hands on. They gave no thought to the ones that got away. They were only interested in making token arrests to discourage future events such as this. Max, Michael, Liz and Maria quickly found one-another and agreed to leave as couples. Michael and Maria made it through the thin line of Deputy Sheriffs and raced off in the Jetta. Max and Liz made it to their vehicle as well, but that was as far as they got. Immediately after starting the vehicle, putting it into gear, Sheriff Valenti stepped out from behind another vehicle and barred their path.

"Hi, Max. Hi Liz," Sheriff Valenti greeted placidly.

Jim took note of the jeep shortly after he arrived. He instantly knew who it belonged to and took a position nearby to meet Max when he returned.

"Hi, Sheriff Valenti," Liz responded somberly.

"Hi," Max greeted an instant behind.

"I hope you two weren't drinking or consuming any illegal substances," Jim inquired pleasantly. "Because, then it would be illegal for you to be driving this vehicle."

"Oh no," Liz quickly reported with a shake of her head. "We haven't been drinking anything."

"Well, unfortunately, Liz, I'm not going to be able to take your word for it," Jim advised with a hint of a smile. "You're at an illegal event where alcohol is being consumed, you're underage and you're on private property. I'm going to need you both to come with me."

"Yes, Sir," Max agreed reluctantly.


	33. Chapter 33 Twin Tornadoes

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 33: Twin Tornadoes

Jim Valenti had no particular interest in arresting Liz. Given his history with her parents and his knowledge of her, he would have preferred to have let her go with a warning. However, it was his interest in Max that made it necessary for him to bring her in as well. He had his suspicion that Max was hiding something and that Liz was involved somehow. The White Sands adventure never sounded right to him. And the loss of his blood test by the Air Force had been bothering him for weeks.

His running into Max and Liz at the Rave was merely coincidental. There was talk of a possible Rave coming as early as the Thursday just past. He had extra officers on standby just in case the rumor turned out to be true. When the call came in to him that the event was actually taking place, Jim was at home relaxing in his favorite chair. He went back into the office to personally handle the raid because of the potential harm this kind of police action could do to him.

Raves over the past two decades had a history of inexplicable events. Accidents, fights, knifings, rapes and the drugs and alcohol that fueled them were all part of this history. Along with these was more than one accusation of police brutality. Jim was all too aware that these were the children of taxpayers and voters who lived in Chaves County. He knew that this event more than most had the potential for derailing his career. His initial concern was to see to it that everything went down without any detrimental mishaps. The arrest of Max Evans was simply an opportunity he could not let pass.

Jim had no reason to dislike Max Evans. It was simply the secret he believed him to be hiding that was driving his interest in him. He saw this arrest as a chance to delve into the boy's life. He particularly wanted to know if Max had a substance abuse problem. He requested that Max submit to a sobriety test the moment they arrived at the station. Max calmly agreed to this and passed the test without a trace of alcohol in his system. It was partially because of this, Sheriff Valenti declined to file charges against Max or Liz for any offenses that they were vulnerable to. However, the primary reason was the fact that he released most of the others that he collected in the raid. He did, however, require that the parents of the minors come into the station to collect their children.

Phillip and Diane Evans were the first to arrive at the Sheriff station. They went quickly to the Deputy Sheriff behind the front desk and announced that their purpose there was to retrieve their son, Max Evans, who was picked up for attending an illegal event. The Deputy asked them to have a seat and wait and then he made a call. There were three other people there waiting in chairs along the wall opposite the Deputy Sheriff's desk. They looked to be parents as well. Phillip and Diane took seats with them. Two minutes later, Jeff and Nancy arrived. The Evans and the Parkers noted each other with looks of disdain. After reporting their purpose for being there to the Deputy at the front desk, the Parkers took seats, only two chairs removed from the Evans. They sat there in silence for all of one minute, and then the silence broke.

"From now on," Jeff angrily began with a point. **"**I want you to keep that boy of yours away from my daughter."

"I think I should remind you that Max saved your daughter's life," Diane insisted as she leaned forward to glare at Jeff.

Nancy quickly jumped up on her feet to retaliate to this. Diane followed her lead. Jeff and Phillip came to the support of their wives.

"That doesn't give him the right to destroy it now," Nancy loudly countered with a scowl.

This loud and angry discourse immediately caught the attentions of all present in the reception hall. The Deputy Sheriff gave it only half his attention. The other half was concentrating on the telephone conversation he was a part of.

"Hold on now," Phillip strongly spoke up with a raise of his hand. "You're making an assumption that Max is the one who's at fault here. I think I should let you know that my son had no blemishes on his record up until your daughter entered into his life."

"Liz is an honor student," Jeff announced fiercely. "She was getting straight A's in school before your son came along."

"Max is an honor student as well," Diane insisted sternly. "And he would never do anything that might harm or endanger anyone."

"Oh, I suppose White Sands doesn't count," Nancy bellowed back.

"Once again, you're making my son out to be some kind of Svengali who's been leading your sweet and innocent daughter astray," Phillip challenged with a look of incredulity.

"Your daughter was in that jeep by her own choice," Diane asserted angrily. "And if anyone has been leading someone astray, it's your daughter."

"You got to be kidding me," Nancy almost laughed back with an astonished inflection. "Liz isn't the one hanging around with a juvenile delinquent."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Diane countered with feigned wide-eyed astonishment. "From what I hear, Maria isn't exactly Snow White."

"You bitch!" Nancy roared as she stepped into her words.

Diane matched her anger with a defiant stance.

"Hold on, hold on," The Deputy Sheriff loudly instructed immediately after racing out from behind his station with his hands out in front of him. "You're all going to find yourselves arrested if you don't settle down."

The Evans and the Parkers began to calm themselves as they returned to their seats. Their seething tempers were the final remnants of their angry discourse. Once they had settled back into their chairs and returned to waiting in silence, the Deputy Sheriff went back to his desk.

It took another ten minutes for Max and Liz to emerge from somewhere within the stations complex to the reception area. By this time the other three parents had retrieved their children and two more parents had arrived and were waiting for theirs. Liz and Max were released into the open area of the reception hall. There was no formality to this, and there were no papers to be signed. Once the escorting officer opened the door for them he went back the way he came and closed the door behind him. Liz and Max went to their parents with looks of trepidation. They, in turn, got to their feet at the sight of their approach.

"Hi," Max announced meekly to both Phillip and Diane.

Diane gave him a faint smile. Phillip gave him a look of annoyance.

"Come on," Phillip instructed a second after Max stopped in front of him. He then led the way towards the front entrance. Max and Liz exchanged looks and slight, but measurable smiles, as they passed.

"What do you see in that boy?" Jeff angrily questioned.

"It's not what you're thinking," Liz quickly defended. "Max is really nice."

Nancy studied her daughter with a look that said she was trying to comprehend what was going on in her mind.

"I know all I need to know about that boy," Jeff declared definitively. "You are never to go out with that boy again. I won't allow it."

"That's not fair," Liz exclaimed with a shake of her head. "We didn't even go there together."

"So, you went there with Maria," Nancy questioned knowingly.

Liz hesitated to answer this. But she did so a second later.

"We just wanted to see the Rave."

"And who was she with?" Maria questioned sharply.

Liz saw where this questioning was going and decided to say nothing in place of a lie.

"I don't know what's going on with you, Liz," Nancy continued in a soft but stern voice. "But what I do know is that this boy, Max, is not good for you. You need to stop seeing him," Nancy finished with nearly a plea.

"Mom," Liz answered back in a pleading tone of own. "You can't stop me from seeing Max."

"No," Nancy responds softly. "But we can send you away to a boarding school."

Liz gave her mother a look of shock.

"You have a plan for your life, Baby," Nancy spoke up earnestly in response to her look. "Remember…? We just don't want you to throw it all away now."

Liz continued to look at her mother with a shocked expression. Suddenly her father spoke up and drew her attention to him.

"Your mother and I have been discussing it," Jeff advised firmly. "If you get into any more trouble involving this boy we're sending you away."

Liz gave her parents a look of defiance before responding with an inflection to match it.

"Can we go now?"

_Line Break_

"What's gotten into you, Max?" Phillip questioned in a demanding tone. "You meet this girl and then, all of a sudden, you can't stay out of trouble."

Phillip, Diane and Max had just entered the front door of their home when he voiced this question.

"This is not Liz's fault, Dad," Max quickly countered.

"So, you're telling me that this is who you are," Phillip questioned with a stunned expression. "Because I know different, Max," he asserted vehemently. "I watched you grow up. This is not you."

"It was a Rave, Dad," Max insisted. "Lots of kids go to those things …and get away with it."

"I don't care what other kids are doing, Max," Phillip insisted stridently. "It's your life …your future that I'm trying to protect."

"What's this about, Max?" Diane interjected suddenly with a surprised inflection. "You obviously like this girl. But does she like you?"

"I was driving, Mom," Max insisted. "We were in my jeep."

"I don't think you've been to party, let alone a _Rave_, since you've turned ten," Diane insisted sarcastically. "Don't even try and convince me that this night was your idea."

"You're wrong about Liz, Mom," Max pleaded with a nod of his head. "She's really nice. You'd like her."

"Well, Max, that's not what I'm hearing," Diane softly contradicted.

"What…? What are you hearing, Mom," Max queried with a look of surprise. "Hearing what from whom?"

"That doesn't matter," Diane gently deflected. "What matters is that this girl isn't who you think she is."

Max suddenly understood where this was coming from. He realized that his reaction was limited by this and became all the more angry because of this constraint.

"Whatever you're hearing, it's not true," he insisted sternly.

Max paused to gauge the effect his words had on his parents, and then he spoke again.

"May I go now?"

"You're grounded, one month," Phillip advised flatly.

Max said nothing in response. He hesitated only long enough to take in this report and then he turned and went to his room.

"You lied about Liz," Max softly accused a second after closing the door.

Isabel was sitting on the computer chair in Max's room waiting for him to come in.

"I told them that she's trouble," Isabel replied equally as soft. "And she is trouble for us, Max."

"No she's not. We're trouble for her, Isabel," Max countered gruffly.

"How is that, Max? How are we trouble for her?" Isabel quickly questioned back with an astonished inflection. "Is someone going to come along and want to dissect her brain?"

"You're the one who wants to be human," Max challenged back. "Relationships are a part of being human."

"If we get too close to someone then they could find out about us," Isabel argued back.

"Liz already knows," Max asserted in a hushed voice.

"But her parents don't," Isabel protested. "Her friends don't. What happens when she gets angry with you? What happens, Max, when you break her heart?"

Max took a moment to ponder Isabel's questions.

"Liz won't give us away," Max gently replied with an introspective stare.

Two seconds after hearing this, Isabel got up out of the chair and went to the door. She stood there for three seconds with her hand on the door knob. And then she gave her parting response.

"You know what, Max; that sounds like famous last words."

Isabel then opened the door and left the room.


	34. Chapter 34 Back to School

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 34: Back to School

The following Monday morning, talk about the Rave was bouncing off the walls of Roswell High School. The vast majority of the school's student body was eager to hear news about the event. The notorious history of the event had many students competing to learn and spread any and all salacious details. Most were disappointed to hear that nothing worthy of Roswell Rave folklore occurred. The raid by the Sheriff Department was predictable. Nearly all Raves ended in this manner. And the many catch and release stories were expected as well. The Sheriff Department had a history of not filing charges in this situation. Only a few people knew that Max and Liz were among the detainees and nearly all of them did not care.

For Max and Liz the unease they were experiencing stemming from Saturday night's event had nothing to do with what the arrest, or what was occurring around them. They had not seen one-another since that night. And they had no idea what to expect from the other. Liz feared that Max would return to his cordial demeanor and act as if Saturday never happened. Max feared that Liz might feel overly encouraged by what happened Saturday and jump into his arms at first sight of him. And both had no idea how to react if there fears came to pass.

It was just before the start of the second period classes when Max and Liz saw one-another. Neither was surprised by this. They each were aware of the other's pattern of movements at school. This first passing in the halls was a routine crossing that they eagerly anticipated and carefully preserved. Liz dawdled at her locker longer than needed to give Max time to reach his. She knew he would be traversing a greater distance than she to get there. When she finally left for her next class, Liz set off down the hall, rounded the corner into a connecting one and saw him right where she expected him to be.

Max was retrieving a book from his locker for his next class when Liz came around the corner. His attention was only partially affixed on what he was doing. The other part was repeatedly glancing over his left shoulder half hoping for, and half expecting, Liz to pass through the hall. After half a dozen looks she was suddenly there, at the far end of the hall, coming towards him. While removing the book with one hand, Max closed the locker with the other. His eyes never left Liz's person as he did this. She held her eyes onto him as well. After hesitating for a moment to note her presence, Max stepped into the middle of the hall and closed the distance between them. They came to a stop, in the center of the corridor, a foot apart from one-another. Liz gave Max a smile. He returned it.

"You okay?" Max questioned softly behind his two second stare of adoration.

"Yeah," Liz bashfully responded while holding her smile.

"I mean with your parents?" Max quickly corrected.

"Oh, I'm always okay with my parents," Liz retorted with a large smile. "But you're not doing too well," she finished with nearly a grin.

"I can imagine," Max agreed with a timid smile.

Max and Liz took a few seconds to exchange bashful smiles and nervous expressions before speaking again.

"How are things with your parents?" Liz asked gently.

"Oh, I'm grounded again," Max reported with a laugh, "one month."

"Me too," Liz quickly confirmed with a laugh.

Again, Max and Liz said nothing as they grinned and smiled at one-another for several seconds.

"So, what do your parents think of me?" Liz queried softly.

"They think you're the devil," Max announced with a deadpan delivery.

A second later, Max and Liz laughed at this report unreservedly for several seconds. At the end of this, they paused and stared into each other's eyes with gentle smiles on their faces. Throughout the whole of this they held their distance and never touched. After four seconds of silence, Liz shyly spoke up again.

"I have to get to my class."

The hall was nearly empty by then. Last second arrivals were racing through the halls in an attempt to beat the clock. Liz stepped off to the right and started to walk by Max when she suddenly felt his hand gently grasp hers. Liz needed no further encouragement. She spun back towards him and threw her free arm about Max's waste, pressing her book into his back. Max did the same as they jumped into each other's embrace and locked into a kiss for half a dozen seconds. When they finally separated, the hall was empty and they were alone.

"I'll see you at lunch," Max declared with a large smile.

"Okay," Liz agreed with a smile.

They parted, reluctantly. Liz backed a few feet down the hall and then gave a gently wave. Max mirrored this action. And then, a second later, they both turned and hurried away.

When Liz arrived at the cafeteria for lunch she saw that Maria had gotten there ahead of her and was seated at the table with Michael. She had become accustomed to seeing this. Since she and Michael went public, Maria no longer rendezvous with her before going to the cafeteria. What did alarm her was the fact that Max was not at the table. Her worry lasted only long enough for her eyes to find him waiting by the food service line.

"Hi," Liz greeted bashfully after walking up to Max.

He greeted her in kind with an awkward smile. The conventions of being a couple were new to both of them. Liz giggled at their stilted attempts to negotiate the serving line together. Still, they navigated through the process with nervous small talk about the food and some occasional laughter at their clumsy jokes about same.

The cafeteria was less than a quarter of its maximum occupancy, as usual. Roughly thirty students exploited the spacious dining area. The usual collection of faces was there, eating, talking and laughing. There was only two among them that paid any real notice to Liz and Max. Isabel followed their progress down the food line with furtive looks. Kyle noted them as well with nearly as great as interest. At the end of the line, Liz and Max gathered up their trays and took them to the rectangular table where Maria and Michael were sitting. The round table, that was Liz's and Maria's usual location, was abandoned weeks ago for the greater isolation provided by Max's and Michael's favorite dining locale. Liz and Max slid into seats beside one-another and opposite Maria and Michael.

"Well, I see the jailbirds have arrived," Michael jokingly acknowledged.

Maria snickered at this.

"We were detained and released," Liz corrected with a broad smile.

"So, I hear you're grounded too, Liz?" Michael questioned knowingly.

"Yeah," Liz confirmed with a smile.

"Bummer," Michael retorted. "You guys just can't keep out of trouble."

Max quickly took up ownership of the reply to this remark.

"I think I should point out that each time that we've gotten grounded, the trouble that caused it originated on the other side of this table."

Liz and Maria openly laughed at this. Michael gave a smug smile and then continued to eat.

"That's right, Maria," Liz grinned a second later.

"You wanted to go to that Rave," Maria gleefully complained.

"I was just supporting you," Liz countered behind a contained grin.

"I don't know why you're blaming us," Michael insisted with an astonished look. "You two just have the worst luck."

They all laughed out loud at this, much to the notice of many in the cafeteria. Any confusion that the student body of Roswell High had about the relationship status of Liz and Max was dispelled over the course of that hour. Max, Liz, Michael and Maria continued to enjoy their lunch break together and went back to their classes afterwards. They saw each other briefly during the time between classes and they met up once again at the end of the school day.

Michael and Maria made plans to meet at her car at the end of their school day. They had already done so when Liz arrived in the parking lot and stood waiting in front of Max's jeep seven cars down. She had been there for little more than a minute when Isabel arrived for her ride home.

"Hi," Liz softly greeted as she approached.

Isabel rolled her eyes at her, walked by and climbed into the passenger seat of the jeep. Liz did not know how to react to this. She knew that Isabel did not like her. Their past meetings were equally cold and unfriendly. She saw no reason to address this issue before. Her relationship with Max at those times was nearly nonexistent. She saw no reason to initiate what would likely be an abrasive conversation. However, it was her relationship with Max at that moment that made her want to try and befriend Isabel Evans.

"Did I do something to make you angry with me?" Liz softly questioned after approaching the side of the jeep. "Because if I did I'm sorry," she finished with an apologetic shake of her head.

Isabel gave Liz a glance out the corner of her eyes and then pointedly ignored her by looking away. After three seconds of waiting for some kind of response, with a barely perceptible nervous hesitation, Liz spoke again.

"You know, I'm not trying to take him away from you."

"You can't take him away from me," Isabel rifled back with a glaring look. "This is just romantic play for you and that other girl," she continued in a lower, but strident, tone. "But for me, Max, and Michael, this is our lives you're toying with …all of us." She paused to give weight to her words. "This will always be about us," Isabel continued at almost a whisper. "You're just interference."

Liz was astonished by the vitriol in Isabel's response. She said nothing for several seconds as she looked at her with a near shocked expression. At the end of this moment she said the first thing that popped into her head in a voice that was near to weeping.

"I'm not playing with Max …I'm not."

Isabel ignored this plea by looking away with an expression of disdain. Max approached at exactly this moment and came up to Liz from behind.

"You alright…?" Max questioned as he clasped his hands onto Liz's shoulders.

Liz quickly turned around to make note of him. "Yeah, I'm fine," she answered with a feigned smile.

Max gave Isabel a knowing look and then led Liz away from the jeep. He could see that she was in distress about something. And he suspected that Isabel was the source of same.

"I'll call you tonight," Max promised with a hopeful look.

"Okay," Liz agreed with a nod of her head and a somber look.

They looked into each other's eyes for several seconds after that and then Max stepped in closer to give Liz a kiss. The moment he did, she threw her arms about his neck and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. After five seconds of this, she backed away with a look of embarrassment on her face.

"Max, you do know that I'm not …playing with you …or anything …don't you?" Liz questioned with a pleading stare.

"Yeah, I know," Max softly answered back. "Everything is going to be okay, Liz."

Liz accepted this answer with a smile and then a wave as she set off for Maria's car. She and Michael crossed and bid each other farewell as they did.

"What did you say to Liz?" Max questioned Isabel a second after he climbed into the jeep.

"I told her she was trouble. I told her she was dangerous us," Isabel answered gruffly. "What do think I told her, Max?"

Michael climbed into the jeep just as Isabel was giving her response.

"What's wrong?" Michael questioned with a confused inflection.

"You're what's wrong," Isabel quickly countered. "The both of you… You're acting like none of this matter. You're letting these girls get too close to you, and it's dangerous."

"I think you're overreacting," Michael countered smugly. "Besides Maria and Liz, nobody knows about us."

Max gave both statements a brief thought. And then he started the jeep and setoff for home.


	35. Chapter 35 Progress Report

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 35: Progress Report

Captain Ryan Kawecki had been working nearly autonomously over the three weeks that just passed. Other than General Pittman and his FBI liaison there was no one else he conferred with about the task he was given. General Pittman was the person heading up this operation. But Ryan knew that the end result would be the product of his efforts more so than his.

Ryan was much more comfortable with managing and analyzing data. Orchestrating an investigation was not something that he thought he would ever be doing. In the beginning he thought that General Pittman would be doing this job and he would be following his commands. He quickly learned that the General was simply the middleman between him and the resources he needed to complete the task. Because of the secrecy attached to this endeavor he was not given any subordinates with appropriate skills. Ryan felt completely alone in this effort. Even his FBI liaison was under orders not to question him about the objective of their work.

Ryan's greatest fear was that he was not suited for the task given him. Running an investigation was not something he was trained for. His specialty was analyzing intelligence data. He could not help but worry that he was looking in the wrong places and asking the wrong questions. He relied on his FBI liaison as much as he could without giving away exactly who they were looking for or why. He had the FBI gather the information he felt he needed and then he personally filtered through mounds of paperwork, often late into the night. At the end of this three week period, he had what he thought was an accurate picture of the teenage population throughout the state of New Mexico. His trepidation regarding this was the thought that the Generals and the Deputy Secretary of Defense would not be impressed with his findings.

The meeting to determine the value of his three week investigation was set for ten o'clock on a Monday morning. Ryan, along with Major General William Pittman, waited in a Pentagon conference room for three others to arrive. The room they were in was just large enough to comfortably accommodate a ten position conference room table. General Pittman sat at the far end of the table, relative to the room's entrance. Ryan sat at the first position to his right. In front of him was a thin manila file folder. On the wall behind General Pittman was a large map of the state of New Mexico. More than two-hundred pins, with red, green and white heads, were stuck in numerous locations on this map.

Within a two minute time frame, starting at a minute before ten, the remaining three members of this meeting, Lieutenant General Glen Snyder-USAF Retired, Lieutenant General Spencer Garber-USAF Retired and Deputy Secretary of Defense Kevin Bartley, arrived. The Deputy Secretary took the seat at the opposite end of the table from General Pittman.

The men gave their greetings with short, emotionless, expressions. When all were comfortably seated, General Pittman began the briefing with an overall analysis of what he expected Ryan to say in greater detail.

"Gentlemen, we've accumulated some interesting numbers regarding the teenage population within the state of New Mexico."

"Wait a minute," General Snyder spoke up brusquely. "I thought the objective here was to find these fourteen teenagers?"

"We believe this has been an important first step," General Pittman responded without conviction.

General Snyder's displeasure with this answer was clearly seen on his face. But he sat back in his chair and waited on this briefing to elucidate. General Pittman took note of this, two seconds later, and then gave the briefing to Ryan. He, in turn, removed several sheets of papers from the manila folder in front of him, got up from his seat, walked around the table and positioned one sheet of paper in front of everyone there as he spoke.

"We have tracked the birth records every teenager attending a school within the state of New Mexico," Ryan reported plainly.

The Generals and the Deputy Secretary briefly examined the paper given to them and then turned their full attentions to Ryan.

"Two-hundred and eighty-three of these teenagers had either no birth records, fraudulent birth records, or suspicious birth records," Ryan continued after stopping next to the large map of New Mexico. "We were able to dismiss two-hundred and twelve of these for reasons of ethnicity, nationality and length of residency. That left us with seventy-one candidates. However, it's this cluster in and about Roswell that we find interesting," he continued with a point to a cluster of red pins in the vicinity of Roswell.

"What makes them so special?" Deputy Bartley questioned blandly.

"The number is disproportionate to the population and, in particular, the number of sixteen year olds is disproportionate to the average across the state." Ryan answered with a hint of hesitance as he glanced back and forth into the eyes of three observers at the far end of the table.

"So you think they're all located in the vicinity of Roswell?" Deputy Bartley questioned suspiciously.

"I believe it's possible," Ryan answered after a pause to consider what he should say.

"And this is all you've got?" General Snyder nearly roared at Ryan. "After three weeks you've isolated a group of children who don't fit the average."

Ryan was more than a little put out by the tone of General Snyder's remark. He took a second to take a deep inhale before responding to his query.

"The only details I had to begin a search with were their ages, ethnicity and the state they were adopted in," Ryan retorted with a hint of defiance.

"Then you're telling us that you have nothing," General Snyder rifled back.

"I'm telling you, Sirs," Ryan countered with equal speed, "is that I have found a peculiar anomaly."

General Snyder paused to give Ryan an angry study. General Garber and Deputy Secretary Bartley looked on with an almost passive appearance. After half a dozen seconds General Snyder continued his examination.

"Why would this nurse put all of these kids in one small area two hundred miles away from her?" General Snyder questioned with a hint of incredulity.

"Why split them up?" Ryan questioned in response with an inflection of bewilderment. "We know that one of them is there. Why not all of them…?"

"To disburse them," General Snyder countered strongly.

"Then we would be working under the assumption that disbursing them was Lieutenant Hytner's intention." Ryan countered quickly. "These numbers suggest that they may have been positioned within a defined area. I just thought it would be prudent to investigate this first."

General Snyder was clearly annoyed by Ryan's last remark. Deputy Secretary Bartley took on an intrigued expression.

"And you believe these numbers are a significant lead?" Bartley questioned mildly, three seconds later.

"I believe, Sir, that the numbers are worth investigating," Ryan responded politely.

"And how do you suggest we verify this?"Bartley questioned mildly.

"I …we thought a minor health scare could be used to test the blood of everyone in and around Roswell," Ryan answered tentatively.

"And what if you're wrong?" General Snyder questioned with a surprised inflection "What if they're not all there?"

"Then we'll know that we need to expand our search," Ryan answered with a direct delivery.

"Then I suppose you'd want to check the blood of everyone in the state," General Snyder suggested with astonishment. "And if you still don't find what them then I suppose we move on to neighboring states and then the entire country," he continued with a toss of his hands in the air. "If we go this route, we'll attract the attention of the national media," he concluded with obvious exasperation.

"I agree," General Garber supported a second behind with a look towards Bartley. "A public scare could draw unwanted attention."

Deputy Secretary Bartley gave Ryan a quiet study. Ryan took note of this and spoke into it.

"I'm talking about a minor medical scare in and about a small community," Ryan softly pushed. "This cluster is all wrong," Ryan finished with a point to Roswell.

"Okay, Captain Kawecki, let's be prudent," Secretary Bartley softly announced as he stood up. "I'll set it up with the Secretary," he spoke to General Pittman with a look.

General Pittman, along with Generals Snyder and Garber, followed the Deputy Secretary's lead and got up on their feet a second behind this statement.

"I'll be waiting for your call," General Pittman acknowledged with a nod.

Secretary Bartley looked to give Ryan a brief study and then he added his final remark.

"I'm looking forward to your next report, Captain."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan acknowledged with a nod.

With nothing more said, Deputy Secretary Bartley promptly turned and exited the room. Generals Snyder and Garber made their goodbyes with equal brevity as their greetings and then followed Deputy Secretary Bartley out the door. Several seconds after they had left, General Pittman turned to look at Ryan and spoke.

"I hope you're right about this," Pittman advised with a warning look.

"Me too, Sir," Ryan spoke back. "Me too…"


	36. Chapter 36 New End, New Beginning

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 36: New End, New Beginning

By the time Max and Liz became free of their groundings the school year was two weeks away from being over. They both endured their punishments amicably with their parents while providing them with excellent academic reports. The parental units for the Parkers and the Evans had nothing to complain about during the whole of this time. They still had their concerns about the relationship of their respective child to the others while they were at school. This, they concluded, was something they had to live with until some new event necessitated some form of reaction. For Max and Liz, the constraint imposed by their groundings frustrated their relationship. The only time they got to see one-another was at school. To maximize this time together they took to eating their lunches outside, beneath a shade tree, often in each other's arms. Once the grounding was over, Liz was slightly more eager than Max to take advantage of their newly reacquired freedom.

Liz's affection for Max was not confined by concerns of future consequences. As time went on her passion for him grew stronger and she had no desire to constrain this. Max, however, was very much motivated to restrain himself despite his growing lust for Liz. He felt guilt for engaging in a relationship with her. His fear was that he would hurt Liz when the purpose behind his being became known to him. The recurring dreams that he was experiencing felt like a forewarning that this day was coming. Max dreaded the thought that he might someday have to leave Liz, but his dreams told him that this was likely an event to come.

As soon as their groundings ended, Liz began pushing for an intimate meeting. Max gave responses that suggested he was not opposed to this. But he made no effort to make it happen. He was aided in this by the restriction that Jeff and Nancy Parker imposed to his association with their daughter and by the same restriction that Phillip and Diane imposed on Liz. Over their first free weekend Max limited their time together to a late night, double date, movie with Michael and Maria.

Max spent much of that weekend hiking segments of the surrounding wilderness with Michael in tow. Max's consecutive groundings had put their practice of examining the myriad of rock formations around Roswell on hold. He quickly picked up where he left off with only a little reluctance from Michael. The interest in finding this outcrop that was haunting their dreams was still present in both their minds. For Michael it had fallen from a preoccupation to an occasional pastime. For Max it had risen from an intriguing search to an excuse to be away from Liz.

Maria was not greatly displeased by Michael's return to the search. She and he had spent the past month very much in each other's arms. Their mutual desire to not be, overly, carnal in their relationship was complicated by the excess of free time that Michael had. Without Max's jeep for transportation, Michael did not have the means to traverse the distances and reach the search locations in any reasonable amount of time. This free time and Amy DeLuca's infrequent presence at home made their attempts at abstinence a failed effort on several occasions.

In their spare time Liz and Marie often discussed their relative situations. Surprisingly these opportunities increased after the grounding. They were twelve days away from finishing their junior years of high school. Max and Michael were spending the bulk of this Sunday hiking through the wilderness. After finishing their tour of work in the café, Liz and Maria spent the afternoon in the upstairs apartment studying, listening to music, eating, and talking. It was during the latter when Liz brought up an issue that had been plaguing her thoughts.

"I think I'm ready to do it with Max," Liz announced with a hint of surprise in her voice.

Liz was sitting up in her bed with her legs crossed in front of her. Maria was seated in a chair with her legs propped up on Liz's bed when she looked up from her book to note this comment.

"You mean sex?" Maria questioned with an inquisitive inflection.

"Yes sex, Maria. I can't believe I'm saying this," Liz responded with a surprised expression

"Me neither," Maria quickly seconded. "What about the master plan, college …graduate school …molecular biologist …aren't you afraid you might be putting all of that at risk?"

"I know," Liz acknowledged with a look of shock. "It's just that …sometimes …when I'm with him …I don't want to stop. Do you know what I mean?"

"Hey, you're preaching to the choir," Maria answered dryly.

"Do you think I should get some protection?" Liz questioned with a hopeful inflection.

"You mean like a condom?" Maria questioned back.

"Yeah, Maria, like one of those," Liz insisted with a stern look

"Well …if you're not sure then you probably shouldn't," Maria countered in a matter of fact tone. "Then you won't go all the way."

"Yeah," Liz vaguely agreed as she pondered to herself. After several seconds of thought she tossed out an alternate position. "But what if one day I really want to do it?"

"All the more reason why you shouldn't have one," Maria reasoned back to her. "…so you won't go all the way."

Liz took a pause to consider this with a look of agreement on her face. After several seconds she pondered out her thinking with a hint of excitement in her voice.

"But if I really, really want to do it?" Liz stressed her question with a desperate look.

Maria suddenly gave up on this discussion with a look of exasperation and a wave of her hands.

"Okay, Liz," Maria announced as she reached down and retrieved her backpack off the floor. "You decide what you want to do."

Maria opened a zipper pocket to her backpack and pulled out a condom. She then extended it towards Liz.

"I'm not saying any more about it," Maria declared with finality.

Liz studied the condom in Maria's hand for two seconds before snatching it up into her own. She continued to study it in her hand.

"Yeah, I should be prepared," Liz reasoned out loud more than she spoke to Maria.

Maria watched Liz with a contained grin on her face, half expecting her to give it back. After another two seconds, Liz grabbed her backpack and tucked the condom away in a zipper pocket.

"You sure you won't need it?" Liz questioned with a look of surprise on her face.

"I keep at least four on me at all times," Maria quickly retorted with an, are you kidding me expression.

"Maria, you tramp!" Liz barely spoke for laughing.

"I know," Maria grinned as she joined in on the laughter. They both laughed for nearly a minute. At the end of this, Liz spoke up with a shy smile.

"You know, it's not like any of this matter. I think Max is afraid that he'll hurt me if he we do, do that."

"Don't worry about it," Maria responded nonchalantly. "Michael is the same way. He's afraid he's going to fly off in his spaceship some day and leave me behind with a broken heart."

"Yeah, but you've been having sex," Liz challenged with a shocked expression.

"Well, Michael doesn't have as much self-control as Max," Maria casually tossed back. "And who knows, maybe Max is right. Maybe one day they will fly away, never to be seen again."

"I don't care about that," Liz complained with a hint of sadness.

"Okay then, have you tried encouraging him?" Maria questioned slyly.

"Well yeah," Liz responded with a timid smile. "I mean, I've tried physical things. But he always just pushes me away."

Maria took a moment to think about this. Three seconds later she tossed out the result of her musing.

"Well, I guess he could be gay."

"He's not gay," Liz quickly contradicted with a laugh.

"Well, you never know," Maria argued with a grin. "There's no rule that says aliens can't be gay."

"He's not gay, Maria," Liz insisted in a definitive tone. "Trust me, I know."

"Okay, I'm just kidding," Maria reacted with a grin.

"What's it like when you and Michael have sex," Liz asked with a look of curiosity.

Maria took a moment to ponder the question. At the end of this she pondered out an answer.

"It's like the happiest moment of my life," Maria mused. "I mean, it's like ecstasy when you do it. But afterwards I feel serenely happy."

"Serenely happy," Liz mimicked back to her with a mocking smile.

"Yeah," Maria reinforced with a grin.

"Serenely," Liz repeated with a larger smile.

Maria pondered this for a moment and then burst out in laughter again. After a dozen seconds Maria spoke up with an air of confidence.

"Well you know what they say," Maria spoke up with a haughty expression.

"What's that?" Liz questioned back with a smile.

"When God invented sex he looked down upon it with satisfaction and said, yeah, this will keep the species going," Maria reported with a straight face.

A second later Maria and Liz burst into more laughing that lasted for more than a minute.

_Line Break_

The next day at school, the student body of Roswell High School was subjected to a medical screening. The purpose behind this screening was reported to the entire community of Roswell the week before by mailings. All of its inhabitants were instructed by the CDC to participate. It was decided that school age children would be tested at their schools. During their home room period, the students were advised by their teachers how this event would be managed.

"You each have been given a time when you'll be expected in the first aid room," Mrs. Donner advised her home room class. "It shouldn't take more than ten minutes. They're just going to a swab inside your mouths, so you don't have to worry about needles or getting a shot. It's quick and it's painless."

"What's this virus that they're looking for?" Shannon Brewer asked after Mrs. Donner pointed to her raised hand.

"I'm told it's a variant of Cytomegalovirus," Mrs. Donner answered carefully. "It's been appearing in and around Roswell for the past few years."

"Do they think we have it?" Kevin Gill quickly asked.

"No," Mrs. Donner quickly responded. "You shouldn't worry about this," she continued in a calming voice. "They're just trying to rule out the people who don't have it and make the people who do have it aware of it," she explained as she looked back and forth into the faces in front of her. "This test is being administered to everyone in the city," she insisted a second later. "And they don't expect a positive result from more than ten to twenty people at the most. And they expect most, if not all, of them to be adults," she finished in an upbeat tone.

"If so few people have it than why are they worried about it?" Emily Seitz questioned with a curious inflection.

"I need you to understand, first of all, this virus is not life threatening, normally," Mrs. Donner emphasized to calm her class. "It can be, but typically it isn't," she added with her palms out in front of her. "But this particular version of the virus seems to be more infectious than normal and more harmful. I'm told that the typical transmission is from mother to new born. However, this variant seems to be passing from person to person at a higher rate than normal," she continued to clarify. "This is why the CDC is concerned. This virus has a tendency to remain dormant for long periods of time and the person who has it can be passing this along, primarily through sexual contact, without even knowing it. So what they're trying to do is identify who has it to stop the spread," she finished with a hopeful expression.

Mrs. Donner searched the faces of the students staring back at her for any signs of concerns or questions. After five seconds she spoke up again.

"This is why everyone is being tested," she stressed with a wave off of her hands. "There are no exceptions. This is not about you," she continued to emphasize. "No one thinks you have it," she punctuated. "The CDC simply wants to contain, and hopefully stop, the spread of this virus while it's still in small geographical area."

Mrs. Donner paused again to see if she had answered the concerns of her class. After ten seconds a single hand rose up. She pointed to it and waited on his inquiry.

"Will these swabs be used to test for anything else?" Max Evans questioned with a ponderous tone.

"No," Mrs. Donner insisted. "They'll be looking for the antibodies for this virus and that's all they'll be looking for."

Max knew that there was something different about him, and that this difference was likely on a genetic level. He, Isabel and Michael were confident that this difference would remain unknown until someone thought to examine their genome. He had no reason to believe that this screening was anything other than what it claimed to be. But he could not stop himself from pondering the possibility. Despite this concern, he, Isabel and Michael, submitted to the test without any reservations and with every desire to look just as human as everyone else.


	37. Chapter 37 Tess

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 37: Tess

It was a hot Saturday afternoon in the middle of the month of July and Isabel Evans was enjoying her summer break between her junior and senior year of high school. For her, this time away from school felt like a reprieve from the annoyance of Max's and Michael's lives. It was a rare event for her to see Liz or Maria over the summer. Her associations with Michael were reduced to three or four occasions a week. Max was the only one of the four who was a daily fixture in her life and even he was a lot less visible than he had been during the school year.

This was Max's second summer break from school with the jeep. As he did during the first summer break he and Michael spent much of the week searching the surrounding wilderness for a rock outcrop that matched the one in their dreams. Isabel's time with her brother was limited, for the most part, to the mornings and evenings. This was no inconvenience for her. She had no great interest in the search for the whispering rock. She was contented to wait for this dream to give her a reason to do something more than just wait for it to clarify itself. Max and Michael set off on their adventures in the wilderness with her blessings. She could think of better uses for her time and her friends were quick to encourage her to do just that.

"Look, Bealls is having a summer sale," Allison Frazier announced as the car she was in slowly maneuvered through the Roswell Mall parking lot.

Sara Lange was driving the car. Isabel was seated in the front passenger seat and Allison was seated in the rear behind her. All three of them took note of the large sign outside the store that advertised the sale event.

"Okay," Sara responded as she turned the car into a parking space. "We have to go in there first."

"Yeah," Isabel agreed with a smirk. "I think we can do some damage in there."

All three girls laughed at this. One minute later they were out of the car and walking towards the entrance to the mall. It was a busy Saturday for the shopping center. The concourse of the mall was crammed with patrons coming and going. The three of them happily negotiated their way through the throng of people as they examined the store window displays they passed. The central hallway of the mall resounded from the noise of scores of people talking, the footfalls of same and popular music emanating from a dozen speakers near and far.

"Oh, look at that," Allison announced with a shocked inflection and a point. "Who'd wear that?"

Allison's point was at a mannequin in a display window wearing a frilly floral patterned dress.

"That's hideous," Sara concurred with a look of astonishment.

Isabel gave a brief laughed to these comments before adding, "I suppose somebody will."

The three of them continued down the hall softly giggling and chatting as they went. They shortly entered the Bealls clothing store. Their amused expressions transformed into intrigued glances as they followed their looks back and forth about the showroom floor. They spent thirty minutes searching through the large selection of clothing items and gathering up three or four that they liked before taking them all to the dressing rooms. They then began trying each on and displaying themselves to each other for their opinions.

Isabel felt as if she were in her element here. She enjoyed shopping, and clothing, and fashions, and all things new and attractive. The whole event was an amusement for her as well as a popular pastime. She often thought her friends were silly and a little too self-absorb. But the enjoyment of the activity drowned out any displeasure here. She never felt the need to match their tendency towards conceit. Isabel was secure in her thinking that they wanted to be with her far more than she needed to be with them.

Isabel was halfway into the process of trying on a third outfit when her mind suddenly brushed against the aura of a powerful brain. She suddenly stopped to take note of this person's presence. She immediately suspected that it was Max or Michael. The only surprise about this was that they were in the city and not somewhere hiking about in the wilderness. She gradually became doubtful that this was the case, as she explored the boundary of this aura. The texture of its thoughts was unfamiliar. She had never known Max's aura to be as mild as this and Michael's was anything but mild. She briefly entertained the possibility that one of them was in an extremely passive frame of mind and quickly dismissed it as unlikely.

_Who is this? _Isabel pushed out this mental question half expecting, half hoping, that Max or Michael would answer it.

_I'm Tess. Who are you,_ was the mental transmission in response to her query?

The shock that they both were experiencing did not transmit into the mind of the other.

_I'm Isabel;_ she formulated in her thoughts and reverberated in her aura. _Where are you?_

Isabel waited more than ten seconds for this response. She was at first confused by this. But she quickly recalled from her own experiences that this probably meant that someone nearby was distracting Tess from this mental conversation.

_I'm here, in Bealls,_ Tess responded a second behind _…by the shoes._

_Wait, _Isabel almost instantly broadcasted as she began redressing herself.

A minute later Isabel hurried out of the dressing room and continued to pass Sara and Isabel as she moved away from the area.

"Where are you going?" Sara asked with a look of curiosity.

"I'll be right back," Isabel reported as she continued to walk away.

Isabel stopped in the aisle just beyond and visually searched the far end of the store in the direction of the shoes display. Her eyes quickly came to rest on a very pretty blonde, wearing a pink spaghetti strap tank top, blue jeans and pink sneakers, who was staring back at her.

_Is that you in the pink Tee?_ Isabel transmitted in her direction as she stared with a look of shock.

_Yes, _came back the telepathic reply. _Are you blonde and wearing a light gray tunic and white pants?_

Isabel nodded an affirmative to this question as she stared into the eyes of the teenage girl looking back at her from twenty yards away. They both took a few seconds to gaze at each other with astonished expression. At the end of this time Isabel pushed out a question to Tess.

_Where did you come from?_

Isabel's question was directed at the possibility that this person descended from otherworldly location. She was partially afraid to hear the answer for fear that it would mean the end of her life there in Roswell.

_I've lived here all my life, _Tess answered back. _Where did you come from?_

Isabel was both relieved and surprised to hear this. She took a moment to exhale her relief. She formulated her answer and then reverberated with it in her aura.

_I live here too. I'm a senior at Roswell High School._

Isabel noted a spike of astonishment in Tess's expression an instant after she reported this. Two seconds later she perceived her response.

_I'm a senior at Goddard._

Isabel took a moment to absorb this. She, Max and Michael considered the possibility that there could be others like them. But this thinking, over time, lost its weight with them. This was due to the fact that there was no one else in their vicinity that could do what they could do. None of them believed that it was a coincidence that the three of them were located in such a small area. Over time they began to believe that if there were more of them then they should be nearby as well. Isabel suddenly realized that nearby was a relative term.

_Are there any more like you at Goddard? _Isabel broadcasted at the little blonde.

Before Tess could respond to this Andrea Lazzaro, a close friend of hers, walked up with a questioning expression.

"What's wrong?" Andrea questioned Tess an instant after stopping by her side.

Andrea noted the direction that Tess was looking and followed her stare back to Isabel.

"Do you know her?" Andrea questioned ahead of Tess's reply to her first question.

Isabel noted that she had drawn the attention of the young brunette with the vacant mind standing next to Tess. Because she was not sure how to act in this situation, she hesitated for a moment and searched about her with the pretense to be looking at clothes. She then turned and went back to her dressing room.

"No," Tess answered to Andrea's second question a two seconds after she heard it. "I thought she was someone I knew. But she's not."

Andrea gave no importance to this reply and quickly changed the subject to what was really on her mind.

"Come on," Andrea encouraged as she presented a pair of shoes. "Take a look at these."

Tess smiled in response to this and then led her friend back to the shoes display. "Oh, I like these," she spoke as she went.

Isabel had enclosed herself back inside the dressing room. But her interest was no longer in the clothes she had collected. She stood there waiting on the mind that she perceived to respond to her query. Thirty seconds later an answer came.

_Yes, there are four of us, _Tess telepathically reported. _Are there others like you at your school?_

Isabel reported back about Max and Michael a minute after responding to Sara's inquiry about her delay. Over the next thirty minutes Isabel and Tess exchanged information between managing the attentions of their respective friends. She learned that Tess knew of two others like her who attended Goddard High School. And she knew of a fourth that attended University High School. The difficulty that came with acquiring this information caused Isabel to become mildly annoyed with her friends. She did not care for their repeated interruptions of her secret conversation. To alleviate this problem Isabel made a suggestion to Tess at the end of this time.

_We have to meet, all of us._

_Okay, _Tess responded a second behind. _Where…?_

Isabel had no immediate answer to this. She took several seconds to consider locations that were both private and known to them both.

_The old soap factory,_ Isabel broadcasted back at the end of this time. _Do you know where that is?_

_Yes," _Tess answered ten seconds later. _When…?_

_Noon tomorrow…_

_Okay._


	38. Chapter 38 Strength in Numbers

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 38: Strength in Numbers

"Her name is Tess, Tess Harding," Isabel insisted stridently. "And she's a senior at Goddard High. Max, this can't be a coincidence."

"Are you sure?" Max questioned, with a bewildered expression.

"Max," Isabel hammered back. "I held a conversation with her for thirty minutes and I didn't open my mouth once. She's just like us. And she says she knows of three more like her …like us, Max."

Max took a moment to ponder this before asking his next question.

"And they're going to meet us there tomorrow?"

"Yes, Max, all of them," Isabel confirmed with an excited expression.

"Okay," Max agreed with a stunned look on his face.

Max called Michael that evening and advised him of this new event. He was more amazed by this news than Max and endorsed the meeting wholeheartedly.

"Do you know what this means, Max. Maybe now we'll get some answers," Michael enthusiastically exclaimed.

"Isabel said she seemed to be just as much in the dark as we are," Max countered calmly.

"Yeah, but still we have to meet them and find out what they know," Michael insisted vociferously.

Max gave no argument to this. He knew that this meeting had to take place. The fact that there were others like them suggested possibilities that he had either not considered or had discounted a long time ago. The identical age of these others to them was one of the mysteries that he was pondering. He dismissed the idea that he, Isabel and Michael were triplets. He could tell from their features that they were too dissimilar for this to be true. The rational that he had been favoring up until then was that the three of them were part of some artificial insemination project. The fact that there were at least four more of them living at the north end of the city suggested to Max that this project could have been much larger. The question that bothered him the most was; what were they put there to do?

Max and Isabel left their home at eleven o'clock in the morning the next day. They then picked up Michael at his home and set off for the twelve noon meeting. There was little said between the three of them in the ride to the abandoned soap factory. Each of them anxiously counted the minutes in silence. They arrived outside of the old, three story red brick building at a quarter to twelve. There was no other vehicle there, or at least none that they could see. Max, Isabel and Michael gave no thought to this. As soon as they got to within thirty yards of the building they could tell that there was no one else there like them. Together, they entered the building and cautiously made their way to the large docking and storage area at the rear. The large empty space felt to them like a natural meeting place.

At three minutes passed twelve, Max, Isabel and Michael heard the faint sound of a car at the front of the building. A second later they felt the presence of four powerful minds. The three of them looked at one-another with stunned expressions at the instant their minds felt the contact.

"They're here," Isabel whispered to Max and Michael.

The three of them fixed their attentions on the doorway into the storage area. Thirty seconds into this wait a thought from outside the building rang out and resounded inside their minds.

_Isabel, is that you?_

Isabel gave Max a look of surprise before responding back with a projected thought.

_We're in the storage room in the back, Tess._

The three of them listened and soon heard the sound of quiet movements at the front of the building. Thirty seconds later their minds could feel the physical presence of four beings moving in a line towards them less than twenty yards distant. Thirty seconds after that a young male, six feet one inches tall, slender and with thick dark hair, walked through the entry way to the storage room. His features gave him an almost effeminately attractive look. He quickly locked his attention onto Isabel, Max and Michael as he stepped through the doorway. He moved at a casual pace into the center of the room while alternating his focus on the three of them. Three steps behind him, another male walked into the room. Standing an inch shorter than the first, he was broad shouldered, muscular, with short blond hair and had handsome features. He followed the first male into the center of the room. Following behind him, by two steps, was Tess. And a step behind her was another female, five feet nine inches tall, willowy, attractive and with long auburn hair.

The four of them stretched out in a line less than ten feet distant and directly in front of Max, Isabel and Michael. They stood at arm's length apart from one-another. Their attentions were held fast to the three strangers in front of them. For a long five seconds, no one said anything.

"Hi," Tess greeted Isabel with a smile at the end of this time.

Isabel responded in kind and then started to introduce her company.

"This is my brother…"

"Your brother?" the second male questioned suddenly with an inflection of surprise. "Do you know your biological parents?" He asked an instant behind.

Isabel was caught off guard by the sudden question. She paused for a moment to consider the motive behind the abrupt inquiry. She shortly comprehended the confusion her announcement engendered and quickly spoke up to address it.

"No, we were adopted by the same parents."

No sooner had Isabel explained this did a floodgate of inquiries begin to pour out from all present.

"Do you know why we're here?" "Do you remember anything before you were adopted?" "Who sent you?" "How old were you when you were adopted?" "Do you know anything about the people who put us here?" "Do you have strange dreams?" "What do they want from us?" "Is someone coming for us?" "Are we human or what are we?" "Do you know what that thing is out there that keeps calling to us?" "Are there more of us?" "Do you know where we come from?" "Have you been contacted by anyone else like us?" "Why are we the same age?"

The deluge of questions being tossed out by everyone there made it impossible for anyone to provide any answers. Max was the first to take note of this and quickly shouted out a command to correct it.

"Wait!"

The questions immediately stopped and all attentions turned to Max.

"There's a quicker way to do this," Max gently declared as he searched the eyes of the four in front of him.

"No, Max," Isabel responded a second later. "I don't want to merge our minds," she nervously continued. "I don't …we don't know them."

"I agree," the second female softly announced. "I don't feel comfortable with that."

"So, you've done it before?" Max questioned the four.

"Yes, we've done it once," the first male answered.

"It feels very intimate," Tess concurred.

"We only did it the once because it made us feel uncomfortable sharing so much of ourselves with each other," the second female bashfully explained.

"Yeah, we only did once too," Isabel softly reported with a large smile. "I mean it feels okay while you're doing it. But afterwards you tend to feel a little exposed."

"Exactly," Tess confirmed with soft grin.

"Well, you need to get over that," Michael bluntly declared. "It's the quickest way for all of us to get up to speed."

"I agree," the second male endorsed gruffly. "Let's just do it and get it over with."

"We need to do this," Max softly declared.

Max examined the faces there, one by one, for any dissent in this. With some reluctance, all agreed with either nods of their heads in the affirmative, or a soft "okay," or both. At the end of this they all went quiet. For a brief time they examined the faces of each other as they, instinctively, positioned themselves into a ten-foot diameter circle. At the end of this, when all were stationary, they began closing their eyes, one by one. This was completed over a three second span of time. At the end of this they began relaxing themselves and their auras with slow, deep, breaths.

It took just under ten seconds for the seven of them to merge the auras of their minds into a single collective consciousness. Suddenly the lives and history of all became a single identity. Max, Isabel and Michael knew at the instant of this connection that the first male they saw was Jason Ross, a student at Goddard High School. They knew that the second male was Aaron Crawford, a student at University High School. And they knew that the second female was Julie Kessler, a student at Goddard High School. But at that moment it was not they who perceived this. It was the identity they had created that was recognizing these multiple personalities within itself. Their parents, their childhood, their friends, their fears, were all there to ponder over. There were no seven different minds rummaging through this information. There was only one mind with seven separate identities in its past.

The seven of them remained standing there with their eyes closed for all of ten minutes as this new identity amazed over all that it was perceiving. This was more than five times longer than either group had spent when they first did this. This new identity had the memory of these first mergers to compare itself with and the difference was astonishing. This new mind that they created was touching on things nearly three miles away in all directions. The strength of this new collective consciousness immediately became more interesting to it than the lives of the separate entities that came together to comprise it. What was nearly just as exciting to them was the sensation that someone, or something, was calling to them. The sensation was stronger. And for the first time there was directionality to it.

At the end of this ten minute span, this collective conscious concluded that it was time to disband. The seven of them broke from this merged existence and began to marvel at what they had experienced. Smiles and grins spread across the faces of each of them as they looked upon one-another with shock and astonishment.

"That was incredible," Jason announced suddenly with a stunned expression.

"That was the most amazing thing I ever experienced," Tess declared with a wide-eyed expression of excitement.

"That was really awesome," Julie agreed with astonishment. "It felt like half the city was inside my …inside our heads."

"I think it was," Michael responded with a look of wonder on his face. "Well, maybe not half …but a good chunk of it."

"I can't believe how big our mind was," Isabel reported with bewilderment.

"Our minds had to be touching things over a mile away," Aaron concurred with a shake of his head.

"The more of us there are, the more powerful our combined consciousness is," Max discerned out loud with an amazed look on his face. "And not just larger," he continued with an introspective look, "but exponentially larger."

They continued to talk on like this for another twenty minutes, and then Michael changed the subject.

"Did you all feel the outcrop?"

All acknowledged an affirmative to this with words and/or shakes of their heads.

"You know, Max," Michael continued after this with an enthusiastic inflection. "I think we've been searching for it all wrong. I believe if we all get close enough we can find it with our minds."

"Or, if more of us got together, we could find it from here," Aaron blandly asserted an instant behind.

All eyes turned to Aaron with concerned and questioning looks. Max was the first to challenge Aaron on the thinking behind this statement.

"You think there are more of us?"

"Why not…?" Aaron retorted with a calm expression. "If we all came from the same children's home in Albuquerque, then it stands to reason that there could be a couple of dozen more of us spread across the state."

They all paused to ponder this with a mixture of shock and worry on their faces. After a minute of silence, the majority agreed that this was something they needed to let develop on its own. Michael and, to a lesser degree, Aaron were in favor of a proactive approach.

"We can't put out an advertisement for seventeen year old telepaths," Jason insisted.

Michael grudgingly acquiesced to this thinking and allowed the subject to pass. After an awkward pause, the seven of them moved on to lighter discussions. For the next two hours they shared stories about their varied lives and experiences. There was no discomfort in this. They were no longer strangers to one-another. The merge had made them the closest of friends. They all knew from the moment they separated that they were bonded for life. At the end of this time, the group of seven left for their homes.


	39. Chapter 39 At First Glance

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 39: At First Glance

For Max, Isabel and Michael it felt as if their world had been turned upside down. They were suddenly considering the possibility that there were many more of them. And they had become very serious about the question, why are we here? Finding four more teenagers like them and experiencing the added power they provided, when the seven of them merged their minds, had them believing that a drastic change in their lives was coming. For Max and Michael this effectively stalled their relationships with Liz and Maria. What little time they had been spending with them was cut in half. Over the next two weeks, Liz and Maria saw very little of them.

Max and Michael began using more of their spare time searching the wilderness to the southwest of Roswell. The merge gave them reason to believe that the outcrop they were looking for was somewhere in that general direction. But they still did not know precisely where or how distant it was. The fact that they had a direction to concentrate on made Michael all the more persistent about the search. Max was not a hard sell in this. He had questions that he wanted answered. The first among these was the question, am I free to fall in love with Liz?

Max was not alone in his desire to resolve the conflict between his personal life and his secret one. The physicality in Michael's relationship with Maria made this answer an immediate concern for him as well. Despite his reluctance to engage in sex with her, ideal opportunities were difficult for the two of them to let go by. This intensified search gave him reason to see less of Maria to the point that their relationship was effectively platonic and nearly nonexistent.

Another motivating factor behind the search for the outcrop was Jason and Aaron. They too wanted to find this location that was haunting them as well. And the experience of the merge, between the seven of them, encouraged them in this. Max's jeep was the ideal vehicle for the search and the occasion was perfect for the four of them to cement their newly attained bond. Jason and Aaron also had romantic relationships, with individuals not like them, which they were distancing themselves from as well. This common cause and concern added to the strength of their bond with Max and Michael. They also went searching through the wilderness together, in part, for the opportunity of enjoying their association with one-another.

Liz and Maria took note of this marked change in their relationships with Max and Michael. Over the two weeks from the date that this new behavior began, they made numerous inquiries of Max and Michael about what had changed between them. The both of them were convinced that something major had occurred. Their primary belief was that they had found the outcrop they were looking for. The answers they kept getting back to their queries were, we're busy right now and I'll call you later. These repeated dodges forced Liz and Maria to do a desperate act.

"What's happening?" Liz questioned sternly and with a stare of determination.

"What do you mean?" Isabel queried back blandly.

Liz and Maria came across Isabel at a neighborhood park where many of Roswell High's students went to play sports and hang out. They were not expecting to see her there. Isabel had been far less visible to them than Max and Michael. This appearance was somewhat of a surprise to them. With their newly acquired free time, Liz and Maria had run across all of Isabel's usual acquaintances at the park or in the café on numerous occasions. She, however, was never with them. For Liz and Maria, this accidental meeting was an opportunity they could not pass up.

"What's going on with Michael and Max," Maria clarified with a defiant look.

"Hey, if you two can't keep up with your boyfriends, how's that my problem?" Isabel responded with a snobbish inflection.

"We just want to know why they're being so distant with us," Liz almost pleaded a second behind. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah," Maria huffed at the end. "Did they find what they're looking for out in the desert?"

Isabel was sympathetic to Liz's question and the way that it was expressed. Maria's inquiry, on the other hand, caused her to be a little peeved.

"No," Isabel bluntly responded after a short pause.

Isabel saw no reason to give them any more than that. She had no real animosity towards Liz and Maria, and she even empathized a little with their situation. But she could think of no reason to give them hope. And she was determined not to give them any information regarding what was happening in Max's and Michael's lives.

"Come on, Isabel," Liz entreated again. "We just want to know if we still have boyfriends."

Liz's gentle appeal had once again struck the bull's-eye with Isabel. Her empathy for her was evident in the reluctance that was clearly evident in her expression and carriage. After several seconds of hesitation she gave Liz and Maria her reply.

"Look, I don't have anything against either of you. In fact, in another universe I would probably even like you. But this is never going to work, and I think you should prepare yourselves."

"So, something did happen?" Liz challenged with a stunned expression.

"No one is trying to hurt you," Isabel quickly implored back. "…either of you. But you have to understand that we're dealing with something that's almost overwhelming. And that has to come first."

"So, we're supposed to just disappear?" Maria queried harshly.

"I'm sorry," Isabel softly reacted with a shake of her head. "I know Max and Michael like you. They wouldn't have become involved with you if they didn't like you a lot. But we don't know what's ahead for us. And I think that maybe you should prepare yourselves for the fact that whatever happens, it won't involve you."

Maria was taken aback by this statement. Liz, however, was angered a little by something she read in it.

"You're not trying to protect us," Liz retorted with a stern inflection. "You're trying to protect yourself from us."

Isabel's immediate reaction to this accusation was to give Liz an angry stare. After taking several seconds to ponder this statement, she replied to it with more than a little defiance.

"This is dangerous for us," Isabel began with a half step towards Liz. "This is our lives that we're trying to protect. I'm sorry if it's interfering with your infatuation. But what you need to understand is that you know more about us than anyone else. Nobody is a greater threat to us right now than you."

"We would never do anything to hurt any of you," Liz declared in a near weeping tone.

Isabel paused to absorb Liz's impassioned declaration. At that moment she could not help but believe that Liz meant every word of what she said.

I'm sorry, Liz," Isabel imparted remorsefully. "I'm just worried for me, Max, Michael…" She hesitated to stop herself from mentioning any more names. She quickly recovered to add, "…and my parents."

"I know, and I understand," Liz insisted wistfully. "I just wish I knew what to say to convince you and Max and Michael that Maria and I have a vested interest in what happens with all of you. And that we don't want to be protected from these feelings. Because being pushed away hurts even more."

Isabel had no response to this. Her regard for Liz grew with each new statement she made, and at this moment she had nothing but fond feelings for her. After a long pause she responded in a soft and compassionate voice.

"I'll tell him. I'll tell them both."

Isabel gave them both a brief look of sadness and then turned and walked away. Liz and Maria watched as she walked over the sidelines of a soccer field. A game was in progress and dozens of people were watching it from all sides. Maria noted that she came to a stop next to the attractive blonde girl they pulled her away from for their talk. What caught Maria's attention about her was the fact that she had never seen her before.

"Who's that?" Maria questioned Liz as she held her attention on the little blonde.

Liz gave Isabel's companion a brief study and then answered with a nonchalant, "I don't know. I've never seen her before."

Maria's curiosity was based on the fact that she had never seen Isabel with a girlfriend who was not Sara Lange, Allison Frazier, and Emilie Porter. What made this even more curious to her was the fact that she had never seen this girl before. Liz gave no thought to little blonde until Maria made an interesting comment.

"For someone who is as secretive as she is, it seems awfully strange that she's making new friends."

Liz gave this statement a brief thought, and then she gave the little blonde a new look. What she and Maria did not know was that Isabel had no secrets from this new friend. And that the little blonde she was with was another telepath like Isabel, Max and Michael.

_Line Break_

Since the merge at the abandoned soap factory, Isabel had all but abandoned her association with Sara, Allison and Emilie. Instead, she began spending the bulk of her time with Tess Harding. The fact that she knew someone of her sex that she could be herself with was liberating for Isabel. She had envied Max's and Michael's association for years. There companionship looked normal and was accepted as such by all who knew them. Up until Tess, all of Isabel's female friends were people she regularly lied to.

Tess was equally eager to spend her spare time with Isabel. But her motive behind this was slightly different. She had known Julie Kessler for much of her life. And for the bulk of this time, they shared between them the secret of their peculiar talents. This close association between them changed when Julie recently became romantically attached to a boy she knew at Goddard High School. When Julie began spending most of her spare time with him, Tess was left all alone. This separation was assisted by Tess's opposition to close relationships with people who were not like them. It was Tess's and Isabel's mutual stance against romantic entanglements which brought them a little closer together then to anyone else. For each of them the other was the bond that they desperately needed.

"Who are they," Tess questioned shortly after Isabel returned to her side.

"That's Max's and Michael's girlfriends," Isabel reported glibly.

Tess held their attention on the soccer game racing back and forth in front of them as they entertained this conversation. Isabel seemed more amused by the spectators than the game.

"What did they want with you?" Tess queried with a curious inflection.

"They wanted to know what Max and Michael were doing," Isabel explained with a hint of annoyance. "You ready to leave yet?" Isabel inquired after a brief pause.

Isabel had very little interest in sports. And this soccer game had been boring her from the moment that Tess led her there. She was also concerned about returning her mother's car at the promised time.

"Wait," Tess responded an instant behind the request. "I just want to watch a little more."

Tess had no particular interest in the game either. But there was a player on the field that she found entertainingly attractive. After another few minutes a score was made and the game went into a lull as the players began positioning themselves for a kickoff.

"Can we go now," Isabel questioned with a hint of exasperation.

"Okay," Tess responded without diverting her attention from the attractive soccer player.

Isabel had just turned away from the field when Tess drew her attention back to her with a question.

"Do you know him," Tess questioned with a faint point.

"Who..?" Isabel inquired as she examined the boys in the general direction of her point.

"Him," Tess re-identified with a point. "…with the gray and red shorts."

Isabel took note of the person Tess was speaking of with a slight look of surprise. After hesitating to note this she responded to Tess's inquiry.

"Yeah, I know him. Why?"

"Just curious," Tess responded with an offhanded inflection. "He's a really good athlete."

Isabel took comfort from the mode of Tess's response and visibly relaxed because of it. She then completed her answer regarding the soccer player's identity.

"I suppose he is," Isabel reported with indifference. "He plays baseball, basketball and football for Roswell High. His name is Kyle."


	40. Chapter 40 Easier Said

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 40: Easier Said

Isabel and Tess visited the park twice again over the next five days. Isabel had no particular fascination for these excursions. She was simply looking for something to do that might interest and entertain them both. Tess was happy to return to the park and quickly agreed to the activity both times Isabel suggested it. What entertained Tess most about the park, and increasingly so, was the fact that Kyle Valenti was there each time. Tess was careful not to show her favor for him to Isabel. But she could not help but notice this attraction for him in herself. And this was very much a surprise to her.

Tess was a very pretty young lady, and was thought so by all of the young men at Goddard High School. She spent her first three years there gently rebuffing the advances of more than her fair share of suitors. This was not because she did not like any of them. There were several that she found very appealing. It was simply her fear of getting too close to someone that she felt predispose to shield herself from. This is what always stopped her from entertaining these advances. She was convinced that Kyle would be no different in this. Nonetheless, she enjoyed entertaining the fantasy that she was his girlfriend. Kyle Valenti was, to her mind, the most attractive boy she had ever seen.

Tess's fantasy was helped along by the report that Kyle had recently broken up with a girl named Sara. She mused that the only obstacle to her heart's desire was her reluctance to pursue it. When Isabel called the next day and suggested that she spend the day at her home, Tess respectfully decline. She used the excuse that her father needed her help with some shopping for home furnishings. This was a lie and Tess felt very uncomfortable with it. But the only alternative would have been to let Isabel know that she was taking a fantasy to the edge of reality.

On the sixth day, since she first laid eyes on Kyle, Tess arrived at the park alone, for the first time. To achieve this, she made the four mile trip on her bike. Despite this effort, she had no plan to approach Kyle or to communicate with him in any way. In fact, she had no idea what she would be doing this day. Her thinking here was, for the most part, none existent. The fantasy was driving her ahead of any planning or expectation. In support of this flight of fancy she was attired in a pair of cutoff blue jean shorts, a white tank top, sandals, sunglasses, a straw sun hat and a mini shoulder purse. She seated herself cross-leg on the grass by the soccer field and waited on the game to commence. As expected, Kyle Valenti was there.

Tess watched the game progress while giving particular interest to Kyle. She managed to catch his eye on numerous occasions and then pointedly looked away each time that she secured it. Kyle was, from the beginning, intrigued by the sight of the pretty girl sitting alone on the sideline. The sight of her attention directed at him continued to heighten this interest. He could not help but entertain the idea that she was admiring him. And his game suffered a little for the distraction. Tess suspected that she had aroused his interest. And she made no effort to dissuade him in this thinking. She continued to toy with him in this manner for the whole of the competition. And when the soccer game was over she continued this play with him after.

Kyle needed no more encouragement than the sight of the pretty blonde's attention intermittently being directed at him beyond the conclusion of the match. He shortly ran across the field to make his introduction.

"Hi," Kyle announced with a smile. "I'm Kyle Valenti."

He stood three feet in front of Tess glistening with the sweat from his exertions.

"Hi," Tess responded back with a smile. "I'm Tess."

Kyle was encouraged by the smile and the response. He returned the favor with a larger smile of his own.

"It looks like you're alone," Kyle commented cautiously.

"Yes, all alone I'm afraid," Tess flirted back.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Kyle countered pleasantly.

"It's a big park. I'm sure you'll fit," Tess responded with an air of indifference.

Kyle sat cross-leg on the grass beside Tess while sporting a happy expression. He then paused for a moment to determine how he should proceed. At the end of this time he spoke up with a restrained smile.

"Well, it doesn't look like you're dressed for anything athletic, so I'm guessing you're a fan of the sport."

"I am," Tess agreed with a broad smile. "I like watching the players run up and down the field."

"Were you admiring anyone in particular?" Kyle questioned slyly.

"I think all the players are very attractive," Tess quickly deflected with a toying inflection.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kyle confessed with feigned sadness.

"Why?" Tess inquired with a pretense of surprise.

"Well, I was kind of hoping that you were admiring me more than the others," Kyle answered with a dejected expression.

Tess took a moment to restrain a grin. And then she responded to Kyle's remark with an extremely flirtatious inflection.

"I never said I wasn't."

"Oh, so you were admiring me," Kyle spoke back with a restrained grin.

Tess gave no response to this other than to blush with a wide smile. Kyle took a moment to be amused by this reaction and then he opened up a new inquiry.

"Weren't you here with Isabel Evans a few days ago?"

"You know Isabel?" Tess inquired with feigned surprise.

"We're both seniors at Roswell High," Kyle reported back softly.

"You are," Tess responded with a mixture of a smile and surprise on her face. "I'm a senior at Goddard," she added behind with simulated superiority and a refrained grin.

"Goddard," Kyle repeated with surprise in his voice. "Wow, you're on the wrong side of town."

"Does that mean I'm in danger?" Tess questioned winsomely.

"Well you could be," Kyle advised with a sly smile. "But luckily for you I'm here."

Tess was quickly intrigued by this report and spoke to it with a smug smile.

"So you're saying I should stay by your side."

"Absolutely," Kyle responded with an insincere pretense of severity.

"And how do I know that I can trust you," Tess queried back over a hint of a grin.

"Hey, my dad is the County Sheriff," Kyle returned cavalierly. "To serve and protect is in my blood."

"Oh, that's right," Tess acknowledge with an expression of shock. "I knew I heard that name before."

"That's my dad," Kyle reported with a smile of satisfaction.

"So this is a like father, like son thing?" Tess tossed out coyly.

"Or birds of a feather," Kyle quickly added ahead of a hefty laugh.

Tess joined in on his laughter. For a brief time they had only this and their adoration for one-another transpiring between them. After several seconds of nothing but laughter and cross looks of infatuation they settled back into smiles and blushes. Two seconds into this Kyle spoke up again.

"You know, I usually go and get something to eat after a game," Kyle advised in a soft, sincere, tone and with a fixed stare. "You should come with me," he finished with a hopeful inflection.

Tess was caught off guard by the offer. This was not because she found the request out of place. It was because she had made no plans, or had given any thought, regarding how she would respond to any suggestion that they go beyond this flirtatious interaction. The conflict within her caused a slight expression of alarm to form on her face. She had socialized with boys before, but this was different for her. In the past she had always turned down the advances of boys at the end of a date, or a get together. What frightened her here, about Kyle, was her extreme attraction to him.

Since the age of ten, Tess had a near preoccupation with the idea of having a boyfriend. It was only this fear, or possibly a programming, within her that kept her from acting on this desire. Julie Kessler's break from this shared prohibition, a year earlier, exacerbated this longing within her. With Julie's encouragement, Tess seriously entertained the idea of a relationship with a boy two months before the end of her junior year. She passed on that opportunity with more than a little regret. The addition of Isabel in her life, shortly after this, reinvigorated her defenses. She began to believe again that she could resist these temptations. What was concerning her most at this moment was a dread of Isabel's anticipated disappointment.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Tess timidly responded to Kyle's request while casting her gaze upon the ground.

"Yes it is," Kyle quickly insisted in an attempt to salvage his offer.

Tess suddenly looked up in reaction to this and found Kyle staring into her eyes. She returned his stare for all of three seconds, with barely a breath being past between them. And then, almost without knowing that she had spoken, Tess gave a one word response.

"Okay."

Tess and Kyle spent the rest of the day together. When he drove her home, they kissed goodnight and made a promise to see each other again. The next day, Tess ducked an offer from Isabel to spend that day with her as well. Work around the home was the reason she gave, but in reality she spent the day with Kyle. This excuse she used for another two days.

At the end of the third day, Jim Valenti came home from work and was surprised by the sight of his son on the couch with Tess snuggled next to him. On the television, across the way from them, the Texas Rangers were playing against the Los Angeles Angels.

"Hi," Jim announced with a start and a stunned expression.

Tess quickly jumped up onto her feet and took a perky stance of attention. Kyle followed her lead with a lot less enthusiasm.

"Hi, Sheriff Valenti" Tess greeted with a large smile.

Tess promptly extended her hand behind this. Jim happily walked over and accepted it.

"And you are," Jim questioned as he shook her hand.

"Dad, this Tess Harding," Kyle reported with a look towards his father. He then turned to look at Tess before speaking again. "Tess, this is my dad."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Jim acknowledge with a nod and smile.

Jim was happy to see his son so pleasantly engaged. He knew Kyle's feelings were hurt when he lost Liz and that he was never really happy with his relationship with Sara. He took quick note of the fact that his son was more comfortably entwined with this new girl then he had ever seen with either Liz or Sara. He shortly released Tess's hand and set off for his bedroom. As he left, Jim called back, "who's winning…?"

"We are," Tess cheerfully yelled out.

Kyle took a second to suppress a grin at this reply and then he shouted back a more accurate report to his father.

"The Rangers are ahead two to nothing."

A few minutes later, Jim emerged from his bedroom attired in a comfortable pair of jeans and a Tee shirt. Kyle and Tess were, once again, snuggled together on the couch at this time.

"What inning is it?" Jim questioned as he started for the kitchen.

"It's the top of the sixth," Kyle answered without looking away from the television.

Tess quickly jumped up off the couch and went to the kitchen behind Jim. Kyle paid no attention to this. He knew what was prompting this action.

"We went to a different restaurant then the ones that you're used to," Tess reported cheerfully an instant after stopping just inside the kitchen. "It's called the Cattle Baron. You may have heard of it."

Jim retrieved the meal from the oven as Tess spoke.

"I think you'll like it," Tess advised eagerly. "My dad loves their food."

Jim gave the meal a quick look and then responded, "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Jim had no idea how he would like the food. But he knew he was becoming increasingly pleased with Tess. And he expressed as much with a large smile in her direction. Tess quickly turned about and happily went back to Kyle's side, overjoyed by the approval that was evident in Jim's smile. Jim shortly followed her out of the kitchen, with his meal and a soft drink, and took a seat at the table in the dining area, behind the couch. As his son and Tess watched the game, Jim made of study of them. After a minute of this, when there was a lull in the game, he asked the question that was most on his mind at that moment.

"Are you two dating?" Jim casually inquired as he continued to eat.

"I think so," Tess reported with a smile after jumping up on the couch on her knees and turning about to address him.

Kyle turned to look at Tess with a smile that was near to a grin and then spoke, to her more so than his dad.

"Yes, we're definitely dating."


	41. Chapter 41 You Too?

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 41: You Too?

It was just a few minutes passed nine in the morning when Isabel took her mother's car out of the garage and sped off towards the north side of Roswell. Diane was reluctant to give her the keys, but Isabel's insistence proved too much for her to hold off. So, instead she secured a promise that she would return within two hours and surrender the keys to her. Isabel was on a mission and it was her belief that timing was important. She suspected that Tess would have left the house if she waited too long before taking this trip. And she desperately wanted to catch up to her before she did.

Isabel chose not to give Tess a call like she did the past three mornings. She had reason to believe that Tess would not agree to her visit. Subsequently she elected to forgo this formality. A surprise visit was much more to her liking anyway. What Isabel wanted to talk about she felt needed to be done face to face. She raced up Main Street at a speed just within the limit. She arrived outside of Tess's home ten minutes after leaving her own.

"You're dating Kyle?" Isabel nearly shouted an instant after Tess opened the front door.

Tess was shocked by the abrupt question and said nothing for three seconds as she stared back at Isabel. At the end of this she invited Isabel in rather than produce an immediate response to her query. She had no concerns about bringing this discussion into her home. Her father had left for work nearly an hour earlier.

"I was going to tell you," Tess reported defensively as they moved into the living-room. "I just didn't know how, or when?" she continued with a somber expression.

Isabel's mind had been tumbling through numerous explanations for Tess's actions ever since she first heard of it. She could not help but feel that she had been betrayed or lied to. This was the one explanation that best explained why Tess had bonded with her on the subject of avoiding close relationships with others not like them. But even in this she asked herself why would she befriend her in this manner and then blatantly do the opposite of what they agreed not to do. It was the feeling of deception that was driving Isabel's theatrical response more than anything else. She had accepted Max's and Michael's relationships with Liz and Maria, along with the relationships that Jason, Julie and Aaron kept, without liking these connections. It was the fact that Tess had sided with her on this and then flipped on the issue that was so aggravating to her. Isabel rationalized that she could have accepted this predisposition if Tess had confessed it from the beginning.

"Was everything you ever said to me just a lie?" Isabel queried in a demanding tone.

"No," Tess insisted with a pleading tone and outstretched hands. "I meant what I said I …I don't know what happened," she continued with a hesitant speech.

"How am I supposed to believe you, Tess?" Isabel challenged in an angry tone. "How am I supposed to believe anything you say anymore?"

"I'm sorry," Tess pleaded back to her. "I didn't mean to deceive you, Isabel. I'm sorry."

Isabel showed no indication that she heard Tess's apology. She immediately went into another rant regarding a related issue.

"Why Kyle," Isabel nearly shouted with a shocked expression? "I mean, did you want me to find out. Did you get some kind of amusement out of my finding out from one of my friends that you were just stringing me along."

"I like Kyle," Tess roared back with a desperate expression. "I liked him from the first moment that I saw him," she continued in a softer tone. "I didn't know how much until I met him."

Isabel paused in response to something she heard for the first time. She took note of the impression of sincerity in Tess's demeanor.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Isabel," Tess continued to implore. "I knew how disappointed you would be when you found out and I was afraid to tell you."

"Afraid to tell me," Isabel mimicked back angrily. "So, you let Sara Lange do it for you. Yeah, that's much better," she finished with a heavy inflection of sarcasm.

"I was going to tell you," Tess lamented with a shake of her head. "I wasn't sure how or when, but I was going to tell you." She briefly paused to toss her hands in the air with a look of bewilderment and then she finished with the remark, "I just waited too long."

Once again Isabel was surprised by something she heard. The inflection of remorse in her voice sounded too sincere to be a deception. She paused to consider this, but her anger got the better of her and she brusquely questioned Tess on this.

"What was stopping you?"

Tess was a little annoyed by this question. She thought it was bizarre for Isabel to be asking her this question since she was so greatly a part of the answer. She took a second to marshal this vexation into a response.

"You, Isabel, you were stopping me," Tess insisted tersely. "You were so happy to have an ally in this resistance of yours."

"You agreed with me," Isabel argued back.

"I supported you," Tess quickly countered. "I never had your passion for this cause. I understand the need, the want, to be close to someone."

"Then why didn't you say something?" Isabel argued back. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you're my friend," Tess fired back with finality. "I was alone," she continued with a hint of desperation. "When Julie began dating Jeremy I suddenly had no one," Tess insisted. "For almost a year I've been quietly moving about, unattached to anyone, waiting and hoping for Julie to give me bits and pieces of her attention. And then you came along and I wasn't alone anymore."

Isabel listened to this explanation with a growing awareness that Tess was confessing the truth about what had transpired within her.

"I'm not like you," Tess continued to explain. "I never learned how to make false friends and keep them at a distance. I had Julie. There was never any need for me to learn how to cultivate pretend relationships. And when I suddenly found myself without anyone to share my time with, I became scared. I didn't know if I could do what Julie did, risk exposing myself to have a real relationship with someone not like us. And I didn't want to be alone. And then you came along, and I wasn't afraid anymore."

Isabel was convinced after this that there was no malice or deception behind Tess's action. A feeling of sympathy washed over her half way through Tess's explanation. She knew that everything that she was saying about her was true. In the back of her mind Isabel knew that her objection to romantic entanglements with normal humans border on the obsessive. She also knew that the reason behind her extreme behavior was identical to Tess's need to become her ally in this. Isabel knew that her greatest fear was the idea of losing Max and Michael to these outsiders. As she came to terms with this reality she softened her expression towards Tess. After a handful of seconds had passed she asked the only question that remained unanswered for her.

"Why Kyle," Isabel inquired with a slight smile and a shake of her head.

"You don't think he's good looking?" Tess queried with a look of surprise.

"Yes," Isabel responded with near to a laugh. "He's very good looking. I'm just wondering why you didn't choose someone who went to Goddard."

"I thought about doing that last semester," Tess confessed with an introspective expression. "And I might have done that when school started again. But I met Kyle," she continued with a hint of a smile. "And there's no one at Goddard as attractive as him."

"Wow," Isabel responded with a large smile. "It sounds like slim pickings at Goddard."

Tess briefly laughed at this along with Isabel before giving a response.

"They're not that bad," Tess countered with a large smile. "But I really do like Kyle, Tess. I like him a lot," she continued with an affirmative nod of her head. "I wouldn't have gone out with him if I didn't."

"I know that now," Isabel responded with a soft smile.

She and Tess stood there for two seconds and exchanged smiles. At the end of this Isabel stepped over to Tess and threw her arms around her. As they hugged Isabel gave her final blessing to this romance.

"And we'll always be friends."


	42. Chapter 42 Shock and Awe

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 42: Shock and Awe

Over the next month, there was little change in the relative dispositions of the telepathic/telekinetic teenagers of Roswell and their significant others. Liz and Maria continued to push for more time with Max and Michael and worry about why they were not getting it. Max and Michael, with the help of Jason and Aaron, continued their forays into the wilderness southwest of Roswell. Julie and Tess continued to revel in the attention they were receiving from their outsider boyfriends. Jason and Aaron continued their relationships with their outsider girlfriends, but to a far lesser degree than they had before the merge. This was partially due to the assistance they were giving Max and Michael in the search for the outcrop and partially because of the concern they shared with same about how this would all end. Isabel, among all of them, experienced the most sizeable change in her life. Tess's new relationship with Kyle forced her to return to the society of her old friends. In this she received less than an enthusiastic welcome, nonetheless she was accepted.

It was five days away from the first day of school when Nancy Parker did her shopping for Liz's school supplies. She gave no notice to Liz about this. This was simply something on her list of things to do when she next went shopping. It was a Wednesday afternoon when she came back to the home with a large load of household goods. Included in the collection of bags and boxes at the rear of the family's Toyota Highlander was a large bag with an assortment of school items for Liz. After sorting through and situating all of the other goods that she purchased, Nancy went to Liz's room with the items she purchased for her.

Liz had just finished showering and was in the midst of redressing when her mother lightly knocked on her bedroom door.

"Come on in, Mom," Liz pleasantly invited a second after pulling her shorts on.

Liz had just finished her day of work in the restaurant and was preparing herself to spend the remainder of the afternoon with Maria.

"I got you some supplies for school," Nancy reported as she walked into the bedroom.

"Oh, thanks, Mom," Liz cheerfully acknowledge with barely a look towards her mother.

Liz was too busy dressing herself to give Nancy her full attention. She knew that Maria would be back soon and she wanted to be ready to leave when she arrived. Nancy gave little attention to her daughter in return. After entering the room, she promptly stepped over to the bed and began dispensing the contents of the shopping bag onto it. Included amongst the paper, pencils, pens and a new notebook was a new backpack.

"I got you a new backpack," Nancy announced after situating all of the items she purchased onto the bed. "Your old one was beginning to look pretty ragged."

"Okay," Liz responded inattentively just before slipping into her blouse.

Liz had just sat down on the edge of the bed and was just starting to put on a pair of socks and sneakers when her mother spoke again.

"I'm going to throw the old backpack in the trash."

Liz gave no thought to this at first. She continued to affix her socks and shoes onto her feet for another thirty seconds before the ramifications of that statement registered within her thoughts. At the end of this time she quickly jumped up on her feet and spun about before calling out to her mother.

"No, Mom, I'll do that."

Liz's attempt to intercept her mother before she could remove the contents of her old backpack was a second too late. Nancy had already extracted an item from within it that caught her attention at first sight. She could do nothing but watch as her mother took two seconds to examine the unopened condom packet.

"What's this?" Nancy cried out when she got over the shock of seeing it.

"It's not what you think," Liz quickly spoke up defensively.

"It's not," Nancy loudly countered with a questioning inflection and an angry tone. "Then I would like to know exactly what I should be thinking."

Liz had no immediate response. Her aversion to lying to her parents caused her to freeze up with an expression of alarm on her face. Her mind began searching for the appropriate words to give in response to her inquiry. A second into this Nancy roared out the thought that was foremost on her mind.

"You're still seeing that boy, aren't you?"

"Mom, you really need to calm down," Liz insisted with a hint of irritation. "This is not what you think."

The loud and angry voices did not slip the attention of Jeff who was relaxing in the living-room. His curiosity about the loud discourse prompted him to get up from the chair he was in and setoff for Liz's room. He stepped into the room a second after Liz finished her remark.

"What's wrong?" Jeff inquired with a ponderous look, an instant before stopping by Nancy's side.

Liz had no intention of initiating this conversation with her father. All she could do at that moment is seethed as she waited on her mother to make the reply. Nancy's hesitation was only due to a loss of words. It took her all of two seconds to respond by holding the condom up for Jeff to see.

"What the hell is this?" Jeff reacted with an angry expression.

"You guys are making more out of this than there is," Liz nearly shouted.

"Are you sexually active?" Jeff challenged loudly without a regard for Liz's statement.

Liz was immediately offended by the question and fumed back at her father with an angry stare. After two seconds of silence, Jeff roared out his question for a second time and received the same response. Nancy quickly interceded ahead of a third attempt.

"This is your life that you're toying with here," Nancy loudly insisted. "You can't afford to let some boy just walk in and do whatever he wants with up."

"Max is not doing anything to my life," Liz raged back at her mother.

Suddenly, as if the utterance of Max's name had released some anger that was penned up inside them, Jeff and Nancy roared out separate streams of derogative remarks about him. Each new accusation infuriated Liz a little more.

"Max is not a bad person," Liz roared back at her parents.

Liz quickly noted that her outburst had the opposite effect than the one she wanted and subconsciously did not expect. Once again her parents spewed out tirades outlining the evils of continued association with Max Evans. Liz suddenly felt overwhelmed by the loud angry voices blaring at her from two directions. Frustrated by their unwillingness to listen to her and angered by their accusing remarks, Liz lowered her head, threw her hands up over her ears and shut her eyes to the barrage coming at her. It was no surprise to Liz that the angry grumbling of her parents continued to register within her hearing. What did surprise her, to the point of extreme alarm, was the sensation of thoughts that were not of her making, echoing within her head.

Liz suddenly jumped back, threw her hands away from her ears and stood straight up with a look near to terror on her face. What alarmed her even more at that instant was the fact that the thoughts in her head went away when she did this. A second later she began looking about her in wonderment at what had happened to create this effect.

Jeff and Nancy gave no notice to Liz's sudden strange behavior. It was their suspicion that one of them said something that induced this effect in her. They paused momentarily to take note of it and then continued with their tag team lecture.

At the moment that Jeff and Nancy returned to their declamations Liz shut her eyes and clasped her hands about her ears in an attempt to repeat the effect. Two seconds into this the phantom thoughts reappeared. She took half a dozen seconds to study this effect occurring in her head. It took her less than half that time to realize that she was registering her father's thoughts within her mind.

"Are you listening to me?" Jeff asked in a demanding tone.

Liz had already registered the thought before the question and looked up just in time to hear and see the perception actualized. She froze for a moment in wide-eyed amazement at what had just occurred. In that moment, Jeff's and Nancy's attitude changed to concern about the disposition of their daughter. Nancy was first to give voice to this.

"What's wrong?"

Liz barely noted the inquiry due to three questions that her mind was analyzing; what is happening to me, how and why? A second later she came to the realization that there was only one place where she was likely to find the answers.

"I have to go," Liz blurted out in a near panicked tone as she raced past her parents and out of the room.

Jeff and Nancy followed her into the hallway a second behind.

"You're not going anywhere young lady," Jeff loudly instructed towards Liz's receding form.

"I have to go," Liz insisted again as she hurried out of the hallway and across the living-room.

"Liz!" Jeff hollered an instant before she raced out the door the apartment.

Jeff and Nancy took a second to give each other looks of astonishment. Neither of them had ever seen Liz blatantly disobey them before. At the end of their pause, Jeff stormed across the apartment and out the door in pursuit of his daughter. Nancy followed two steps behind. They both raced down the back stairs and toward the sound of the rear door closing shut.

"Go, go, go," Liz ordered Maria a second after climbing into her Jetta.

Maria was shocked by the sudden appearance of Liz inside her car. She had just arrived and had yet to turn off the engine.

"Hurry up," Liz commanded a second later in reaction to Maria's hesitation.

After a startled reaction to the sharp command, Maria backed away from the parking space and then quickly turned and sped away. Liz noted her parents racing out the back door of the café just as Maria shifted into drive and drove off.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Maria questioned with a mixture of concern and interest.

"I heard my father's thoughts," Liz whispered with a look of disbelief.

"What?" Maria retorted loudly.

"I could hear his thoughts," Liz repeated at a whisper. "When I closed my eyes it was like his mind was in my head."

"When you closed your eyes," Maria parroted in a mildly mocking tone.

"I'm serious, Maria," Liz asserted sharply. "I could hear …or feel my dad's thoughts. It was like there was another part of me …inside my head … but I had no control over it. It was weird and strange."

Maria listened to this with a hint of a smile and a slight intermittent shake of her head. At the end of Liz's report she responded in a calming voice.

"Liz, you're not an alien."

"I know," Liz maintained with a hint of desperation. "But why am I hearing my parent's thoughts?"

Maria took notice of the hysteria in Liz's voice and quickly fashioned a comment that she hoped would ease her trepidations.

"Liz, you're not hearing anyone's thoughts. You're just imagining it."

"Yes, I am," Liz sternly countered.

"Okay, if you can read minds then read mine," Maria requested in a casual voice.

Liz pondered the request for nearly ten seconds before closing her eyes to accomplish the task. Maria noted this with a slight smile as she continued to drive. After thirty seconds of effort, Liz opened her eyes into an expression of bewilderment.

"I couldn't get in," Liz reported in a perplexed tone. "I don't understand. I read my father's thoughts. I know I did. I could feel his mind in my head."

"Liz, you probably have a cold …or a fever or something and you were hallucinating," Maria offered in a soothing voice.

"I know what happened, Maria," Liz insisted in a loud and vehement tone.

"Okay, okay," Maria responded in reaction to Liz's heated response.

Maria drove on in silence for nearly a minute before thinking to inquire if they were going to her home.

"No," Liz answered in a soft voice.

"Where are we going then?" Maria questioned back.

"Max's house," Liz answered with an inflection of surprise.

Maria was confused by this. She promptly pointed out to Liz that Max probably would not be home at that time. Liz looked to be pondering this for several seconds before she gave her response to this.

"I know."

Still confused, Maria drove on with nothing more said about it. In just under five minutes she steered her car to the Evans' home. A second after she parked in front of the house, Liz jumped out and hurried up to the front door. She rang the doorbell several times before stepping back into an impatient wait. Five seconds later Phillip Evans opened the door.

"Hi," Liz greeted anxiously.

Before she could speak any further than that, Phillip anticipated her business and responded to it.

"Max is not here and I don't think you should be here either, Liz."

Liz noticed that she was having trouble holding her attention onto Phillip due to a strange sensation that was distracting her thoughts. She first felt it from nearly a block away from the Evans' home. But the sensation became strongest when she reached the front door.

"I-I know," Liz fumbled out nervously.

"And I'm sure your parents would object to your being here," Phillip continued in a softly lecturing tone.

It suddenly dawned on Liz that the sensation she was experiencing was the aura of Isabel's mind. An instant after this revelation, Liz instinctively pushed a thought into the space that her mind was sensing around her. A second behind this, she scrambled out a response to Phillip's last remark.

"I know ...you're right …they wouldn't. It's just that this is really important," Liz explained softly.

"You should go home, Liz," Phillip politely suggested again.

Just as Phillip spoke this Isabel suddenly walked into the living-room and fixed her attention onto Liz with a look of absolute shock.

_Line Break_

Isabel was in her bedroom, lying prone on her bed, thumbing through a magazine and listening to music on her iPod, when she first felt Liz's approach. Her first thought was that the mind she was feeling belonged to Max. This was unexpected because of the time. She anticipated his return would be closer to three hours later. Her guess was that he had made an early end of his excursion into the wilderness and she continued to amuse herself with her magazine and music. This continued until something else caught her attention thirty seconds later.

The sound of the front doorbell barely registered over the music spewing out of Isabel's earphones. Out of curiosity she promptly pulled the earphones out of her ears. As soon as she did this she heard the sound of the doorbell ringing twice again. Her interest was instantly piqued by this. The powerful mind that she was sensing was still nearby and she knew that Max would have no need to ring the bell. What made this all the more intriguing for her was the thought that anyone she knew with just such a mind would normally have called before coming to her home. After taking a couple of seconds to ponder this, she threw her legs off the edge of the bed and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Isabel knew that her father was in the living-room and would likely answer the door in short order. But she also knew that whoever was there would almost definitely be there for her. She immediately reached down and retrieved her shoes from beneath her bed and began fastening them onto her feet. She had just finished doing this and had risen onto her feet when she was hit with something that shocked her beyond anything she could have expected.

_Isabel, it's me, Liz. Help me, please._

The sensation of this thought in her head galvanized Isabel into the appearance of a rock hard statue chiseled in a state of shock. It took her two seconds to get over this and race into the living-room. She came to a stop four steps behind her father who was standing just inside the front entrance. Standing on the other side of him, just outside the doorway, was Liz. Isabel instantly locked her eyes onto her, and she did the same in return.

"Oh my god," Isabel whispered to herself.

After burning off a second of astonishment, Isabel raced over to the door and pushed herself in between her father and Liz.

"I got this, Dad," Isabel quickly asserted. "She's here for me."

Phillip was a little surprised to hear this. He never knew Isabel to associate with Liz Parker and past remarks gave him reason to believe that his daughter did not like her. Nonetheless, he could see no reason to object to this and promptly surrendered the situation to her. An instant after her father turned away and began his retreat back to his chair in the living-room; Isabel stepped through the front doorway and closed the door behind her. Liz gave ground to Isabel's exit from the house with a look of terror about her face. Isabel quickly led her away from the front of the building and halfway to the street's curb before stopping to confront her.

"Your mind, it's glowing," Isabel stated with an expression of shock. "How are you doing that?"

"I don't know," Liz answered with equal astonishment. "It just started all of a sudden. What's happening to me?"

Isabel took a moment to give Liz a visual study with her eyes wide open. After five seconds of this she took Liz by the arm and began to lead her back to Maria's car.

"I don't know, but we need to get the others," Isabel reported the instant they began to move towards the car.

Four feet away from the Jetta Isabel suddenly came to a stop with a renewed look of alarm on her face. Leaning up against her car, Maria was waiting there with her arms folded. She had been watching this event with interest and confusion. The sight of Isabel staring into her eyes at this moment, with an expression close to terror, caused her to stand straight up and blurt out a loud query.

"What?"

Isabel took three seconds to study Maria up and down as though she was an object of amazement. At the end of this time she whispered out a question with a dazed visage.

"You too…?"


	43. Chapter 43 This is New

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 43: This Is New

Max was on his way back into the city of Roswell when he felt his cellphone give a one second long vibration. He understood from this that someone had left him a message. His first thought was that it was from his mom or dad. He was used to losing cellphone connection when he went trekking about in the wilderness. And he was accustomed to seeing messages from them when his cellphone reconnected with the network. Without stopping the jeep, he retrieved his cellphone from the pocket of his pants, negotiated the buttons with one hand to access his voicemail and then placed the phone to his ear. Two seconds later the message began to play.

"Max, this is Isabel. Something has happened. You and Michael need to come to the soap factory right away."

Max quickly passed this message to Michael, who was sitting next to him in the passenger seat of the jeep. They were quickly alarmed by the fact that Isabel was summoning them to the soap factory straight away. This suggested to them that whatever happened was a secret matter and an urgent one. Max began steering the jeep to that location without thought of doing otherwise. Michael was in full agreement with this. They were both eager to know what was so important that Isabel thought to call them all together without delay.

Max and Michael assumed that Isabel was contacting the others with the same message. It was obvious to them both that Isabel chose the abandoned soap factory to give all seven of them a place to convene in private. They had no secrets from one-another. And they knew that only something so important that all seven of them needed to hear it would prompt Isabel to steer the two of them to this location. Max raced on towards the abandoned soap factory at the speed limit of the road that he was on at any given moment.

When Max and Michael arrived, outside of the soap factory building, they were not at all surprised to see Jason's car parked there. They knew that he and Aaron had been hiking through a different sector of the wilderness southwest of Roswell and likely got Isabel's message around the same time that they did. They knew that there was an even chance they would get there first. They were, however, a little surprised not to see the spare Kessler family car that Julie regularly procured for errands and social events. They anticipated that she would be the person to give Tess a ride there. And they could think of no reason why Julie and Tess did not take Isabel's call right away and set out for the factory before them. However, this observation notwithstanding, they expected a reasonable explanation would be forthcoming. Another sight they found unexpected was the absence of the car Isabel would likely have borrowed to make this rendezvous, her mother's. It was normal practice for Isabel to use Diane's car for shopping and an occasional social event. This was especially true when Max, and his jeep, was not available. It was expected by Max and Michael, alike, that this would be her ride there since her only other option would be Julie, and she was inexplicably absence. All of these things they quickly noted without any worry regarding them and with only a miniscule of surprise. But what they saw next was beyond them to even imagine. Subsequently, it blindsided them both.

"That's Maria's car," Michael called out with a start and a point.

"You sure," Max questioned to verify his own recollection.

"That's Maria's car," Michael insisted strongly.

Max required no further convincing than that. He quickly steered the jeep to a parking space near Maria's car. He and Michael jumped out of the jeep a second after Max cutoff the engine. They paused for a second to examine Maria's Jetta, as if they needed to satisfy one, last, skepticism. A closer examination did nothing to change their conclusion. Two seconds behind this, they both turned towards the factory and hesitated again. A sensation they were getting caused them both to examine it with their minds. They had been feeling the glow of several telepathic minds from a block away. It was only at this moment that they could make out the individual auras comprising this field. What caused them to be alarmed was the fact that there was one more of their number than they expected. At best, they were only expecting to find five minds within the factory. And that was only if Tess and Julie were present. What they were sensing inside was the presence of six minds like their own, with the exception that two of them were decidedly weaker.

Michael raced into the factory with Max two strides behind. Ten seconds later they came to a stop, side by side, in the storage area at the back of the factory. Both of them looked on in astonishment at what they found there. Standing across the way from them, twenty feet distant, was Jason, Aaron, Tess, Isabel, Maria and Liz. Each of them looked equally startled as they stared back at them. Max and Michael paused to take note that the auras of Liz's and Maria's minds had expanded beyond their physical person. It took Max all of three seconds to absorb this before speaking.

"What's happening?" Max questioned with a stunned expression.

In response to this question, the group in front of Max turned their eyes to Liz. She held her focus onto Max for another two seconds and then began looking about her as if she had lost something. Shortly, she fixed her eyes on a rusty bucket not more than ten feet away. She held fast her attention to it for nearly five seconds before it began to wobble, and then it rose up off the floor. Liz slowly lifted the bucket four feet into the air with her mind before letting it drop back to the floor with a clang. She then looked back to Max with an expression of fear. He was staring at her with a look of amazement. They held these looks for five seconds before anything else was said.

"How am I doing this, Max?"

Liz's question was the thought that was on all of their minds at that moment. No one had an answer for this. For nearly five seconds everyone looked to the others for an answer.

"What's going on?" Maria questioned into this silence at the end of this. "How did Liz do that?"

Maria was the most confused of anyone there. On top of not knowing what was happening to Liz or why, she had no idea why everyone was looking at her with equal amazement. This she noticed to a far greater extent in Michael's stare. A second after she submitted her question, he slowly approached her behind an intense study of her person.

"What?" Maria questioned behind a ruffled brow.

"It's not just Liz," Isabel pointed out softly. "It's happening to her as well. I can feel it."

"You're saying that what happened to Liz is happening to me?" Maria questioned no one in particular with a look of disbelief. "Is this some kind of contagion?" She continued with better than a hint of hysterics.

"How is this happening, Max?" A frightened Liz inquired a second behind.

Max hesitated to respond because of his own confusion. After three seconds of silence he whispered out the one thing he felt was likely true.

"It can't be a contagion."

"Why not…?" Isabel queried with a sudden outburst.

Isabel had been considering this idea from the first moment he noted this change in Liz and Maria. She was never convinced it was true. But she was convinced that it was one of only two possible answers.

"If this was something that we could pass along, then out parents should have gotten it a long time ago." Max asserted to all in the room.

"So what is it, Max?" Liz softly questioned with a look of worry on her face.

No one thought to answer Liz's query. Max, Michael, Isabel, Tess, Jason and Aaron were all thinking the same thing. But it was the new sensation that just entered their awareness, which was holding their attention at that moment. They all, minus Maria, turned their attentions towards the front of the factory and moved a half step into this new awareness. Liz felt it too, three seconds behind the others. She turned her attention towards the front of the factory in response to it. Maria noted the change in mood and the sudden shift in interest towards the front of the building.

"What's wrong?" Maria almost whispered.

"It's Julie," Tess announced to all present.

"There's something wrong," Aaron corrected with a curious inflection a second later.

Tess had already come to that conclusion, as did the others, minus Liz and Maria. There was something different about the aura of her mind that none of them could make sense of. It was not an unusual feeling. It was simply an unexpected one. As the seconds ticked off and the origin of the aura got nearer, the peculiarity of the feeling intensified. It was not until after another twenty seconds had passed that they all understood why her aura felt so different. Isabel and Tess responded to this comprehension with a sudden soft gasp for air. Max, Michael, Jason and Aaron responded with sudden, and noticeable, looks of alarm. Maria took note of the increased tension with a half step backwards and a look of fear. Liz took note of this new awareness three seconds behind the others and reacted to it with a question.

"Who's Julie? And who's the other person?"

All eyes were focused on the entrance to the storage area. Two seconds after Liz had asked her question, Isabel responded to it in a hushed tone.

"There shouldn't be another person."

Everyone went quiet after this. They were all listening to the sounds of slow and careful movements coming from the hallway outside of the storage room. A dozen seconds later, Julie stepped through the entrance with a look of grave concern. She too had noted the presence of more telepathic minds than she expected. She scanned the faces of all present, stopping to give quick studies of Liz and Maria. Two seconds later she moved ten feet further into the room. Following two steps behind was a young man, a teenager by the look of him, who appeared to be approximately five-foot ten-inches tall. He had a healthy, but not necessarily athletic, build. He had sandy brown hair and decidedly handsome facial features. He walked into the storage area with a nervous look to him. He came to a stop beside Julie and quickly glanced into the faces of all present. Four seconds ticked off in silence and then Julie spoke.

"This is my boyfriend, Jeremy."

Julie had already surmised that they had encountered identical situations to the one that she had been dealing for the past two hours. After speaking she paused two seconds to hear their response and then she turned her attention to Jeremy.

"Show them," Julie instructed softly.

Jeremy took a second to return her look and then looked back at the faces staring at him from across the room. Two seconds later he pushed out a thought for all telepaths to hear.

"_What's happening to me?"_

"Oh my god," Maria shouted out loud as she brought her hands up to her head.

Maria jumped a step back, with a look of terror on her face, in response to the question that suddenly erupted in her head. Michael quickly raced to her side and put his arms around her.

"It's alright," Michael assured in a soothing voice.

"What was that?" Maria questioned in between gasps for air.

Michael quickly explained to her that she had perceived a thought that was telepathically sent to her. Even before he finished explaining this, Isabel turned to Max with a dire expression.

"Max, this can't be a coincidence."

The original seven paused to reflect on this as Liz, Maria and Jeremy looked on in wonderment. Liz turned to Max three seconds later and asked the question that she, Maria and Jeremy were thinking.

"What does that mean?"

After two seconds of consideration, Max ignored the question and turned his attention to Jeremy.

"Were you adopted?" Max asked him directly.

"Yes," Jeremy answered with a look of confusion. "Why?"

The original seven turned to one-another with looks of startled apprehensions. The seven of them inched back as they fathomed the full significance of what this suggested. A second later Aaron looked to Jason and blurted out, in a word, the thought he was obsessing over.

"Ashley!"

An instant behind this, Jason turned to the others and announced that he and Aaron had to leave. They promised to return to this location after their investigation into their fears. No more was said of this. Max, Isabel and Michael watched them race out the entrance to the store room. They understood that it was their suspicion and fear that this same transition was happening to their girlfriends. Maria noted all that was happening with more than a little confusion. Liz was fairing a lot better, but the shock of what she perceived was delaying her acceptance of it.

"I need to find Kyle," Tess declared to Julie in a voice laced with worry.

Julie quickly agreed to this with a nod of her head. She promptly bade Tess to come with her. Together, with Jeremy in tow, the three of them hurried out of the store room towards the front entrance of the factory. Max, Isabel, Michael, Maria and Liz were the only ones left in the store room. The former three looked on at the latter two with mixed expressions of worry and comprehension. A dozen seconds later there was nothing but silence in the room. The sounds of footfalls trailing away into the distance were gone. Maria was the first to speak into this quiet.

"What's happening?" Maria, nervously, questioned at close to a whisper.

The event of Jeremy telepathically speaking into her head was still causing a great unease within Maria. Taking this in was inhibiting her ability to follow everything else that was transpiring. Liz was putting the pieces together, within her mind, with methodical precision. Her only delay was the reluctance she was feeling for where this was leading.

"This can't be right, Max," Liz spoke up with a mixture of comprehension and fear.

Max and Isabel looked on at her with affectionate concern. Michael continued to attend to Maria's anxiety as this transpired.

"There has to be a mistake," Liz insisted without conviction.

Max was fearful of contradicting her on this. He felt that this was a conclusion she had to come to on her own. He continued to watch her for another five seconds. For the whole of this time Liz stared into space in front of her. In her mind she was desperately trying to analyze away the obvious explanation for all that had happened. At the end of this time, she turned to Max and spoke in a decisive voice.

"Take me home, Max."


	44. Chapter 44 The Roswell Thirteen

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 44: The Roswell Thirteen

They had been waiting inside a large Pentagon conference room for more than an hour. General William Pittman sat just to the left of center of the table. Captain Ryan Kawecki sat next to General Pittman, at the right of center. The large, polished wood, table supported ten chairs down either side and one on each end. The room was not spacious, but it easily accommodated the table and a ring of chairs along the walls.

Captain Kawecki and General Pittman had been assured several times that the meeting would take place. When the door opened seventy-four minutes after the scheduled start time, they both were anticipating that the receptionist was returning with another assurance. To their surprise, the individuals they had been waiting for filed into the room, one after the other, at a rushed pace. They each promptly took seats on the opposite side of the table. Ryan was personally familiar with all but one of the four men who came into the room. The fourth man he was professionally familiar with.

Secretary of Defense Patrick Drenning sat directly opposite General Pittman. To his right was Deputy Secretary of Defense Kevin Bartley. To the left of Patrick Drenning was General Spencer Garber, and to his left was General Glen Snyder. They all placed their forearms onto the table, laced the fingers of each of their hands together and focused their attentions onto General Pittman in short order. Without preamble, Secretary of Defense Patrick Drenning began the meeting with a brief instruction.

"Okay, General Pittman, let's hear it."

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary," General Pittman responded as he put on his reading glasses and opened the folder in front of him. "A year ago, an unusual sample of blood came into our possession. Our scientists tell us that the owner of this blood is genetically several thousands of generations more advanced than any other human on the planet."

General Pittman referenced repeatedly the papers in front of him as he spoke.

"These same scientists say that the odds against this are astronomical," General Pittman continued with only a brief hesitation. "They tell us that this person had to have been engineered."

General Pittman looked across the table from him for a reaction to anything he had said so far. It took him a second to note that he was not impressed so far.

"We now know that there are twelve more of these genetic anomalies living in or near Roswell," General Pittman began again, with greater emphasis to his words. "…all seventeen years of age …and all with fraudulent birth certificates. This, Mr. Secretary, is astronomical times thirteen."

Secretary of Defense Patrick Drenning was aware of most of what he heard. What was news to him was the fact that they found twelve more of these extraterrestrial humans. He reacted to this with a glance to his Deputy to his right and then to the two Generals to his left. They, in turn, looked to him with mild expressions of surprise. At the end of this he looked across to General Pittman and asked his first question.

"I thought there was supposed to be fourteen?"

"We haven't found him yet," General Pittman answered straight away.

"Are you sure number fourteen is going to be a male?" Secretary Drenning questioned with a curious inflection.

"That's our guess," General Pittman answered with a nod towards Ryan. "If the pattern holds true, number fourteen should turn out to be the seventh male."

Secretary Drenning paused to ponder this information. He gave no deference to anyone else as he did this. Three seconds later he queried General Pittman again.

"What can you tell me about the thirteen we do know about?"

In response to this, General Pittman removed a sheet of paper from the file in front of him and set it aside. He then flipped forward in the folder and procured an eight by ten picture with a factsheet attached to the back. General Pittman took a second to examine the name on the fact sheet and then extended it across to Secretary Drenning. The instant he did this, he began reciting data from the paper he set aside.

"Michael Guerin …seventeen …a student at Roswell High …his adoptive parent is Russell Guerin …the adoptive mother left when he was five. The father is a mechanic by trade and is the part owner of an automotive repair shop. Michael has had some run-ins with the law, nothing major. And he maintains a C average at school."

Secretary Drenning examined the picture and the data on the back as General Pittman recited this information. When General Pittman finished reciting the broad particulars about Michael, he slid a second picture across to the Secretary and began his recitation anew.

"Jeremy Stratton …seventeen …a student at Goddard High …adoptive parents …Devon and Yvonne Stratton …the father is an Office Manager for an insurance company. His mother is a Loan Processor at a local bank. Jeremy is holding a B average in school and has never been in trouble with the police."

General Pittman acquired another picture and then extended that across to the Secretary. As he did this, Secretary Drenning slid the first two pictures out to the individuals sitting to either side of him.

"Aaron Crawford," General Pittman continued a second behind this. "Seventeen …a student at University High …adoptive parents …Bernard and Alice Crawford …the father is the owner of a plumbing company. The mother is a house wife. Aaron is averaging a B plus at school and has no record with the local authorities."

General Pittman reached into the folder, procured another eight by ten and extended it across to the Secretary after noting the attached name. He began reciting from his sheet once again.

"Julie Kessler …seventeen …a student at Goddard High …adoptive parents …Scott and Betsy Kessler …the father is a Construction Superintendent, and the mother is a manager for a local jewelry store. Julie is averaging a B plus as well and has no external records worth mentioning."

General Pittman produced two eight by tens, one after the other, extended them to the Secretary and began reciting pertinent information about them both.

"Max and Isabel Evans …both seventeen years of age …adoptive parents …Phillip and Diane Evans. The father is a lawyer and a senior member of a law firm that specializes in business law. The mother is a housewife. Max and Isabel are students at Roswell High with averages of B and B plus, respectively. Max was arrested for trespassing onto the White Sands Missile Range a year back. No charges were filed."

"Do we know what that was about?" Secretary Drenning quickly questioned.

"No," General Pittman answered in quick anticipation of the question. "The arresting officer thought that it was likely a prank or a dare. But there was an open gate and the warning sign wasn't visible because of this. The officer in charge didn't think it was worth pursuing under these circumstances."

General Pittman paused to receive any return regarding this. Secretary Drenning pondered this for three seconds before responding.

"Have you looked into it?"

"Yes," General Pittman answered without hesitation. "And we've found nothing so far."

Secretary Drenning thought about this for two seconds more and then closed the matter with an "okay."

General Pittman promptly produced another eight by ten after this and extended over to the Secretary.

"Maria DeLuca," General Pittman promptly announced. "Seventeen… a student at Roswell High… adoptive parents… Gerald and Amy DeLuca… the father is deceased. He died when she was nine… cancer… The mother is owner/operator of a novelty store. Amy is averaging a B minus at school and has no record with the local authorities."

General Pittman promptly picked up another eight by ten, examined it quickly and sent it across to the Secretary. He continued to pass his discards to the left or right of him.

"Ashley Trilling," General Pittman announced quickly. "Seventeen… a student at Goddard High… adoptive parents… Nicholas and Stella Trilling... the father is a furniture store manager and the mother is a Real Estate Agent. Ashley is averaging an A minus in school and has no record with the local authorities."

Once again, General Pittman produced another eight by ten, examined it and passed it across to the Secretary. And once again he began reciting data about this person from off the paper in front of him.

"Tess Harding… seventeen… a student at Goddard High… adoptive parents… Christopher and Sharon Harding… The father is an Electrical Engineer for a locally based company… The mother was killed in an automotive accident when she was twelve. Tess is averaging a B in school and has had no troubles with the local authorities."

General Pittman quickly went to another eight by ten, examined it and the handed it to Secretary Drenning. Without hesitation, he went into the data regarding this next individual.

"Kyle Valenti… seventeen… a student at Roswell High… adoptive parents… Jim and Susan Valenti… The adoptive mother is deceased… cancer… the adoptive father is the Sheriff of Chaves County."

General Pittman paused for a response to this. Secretary Drenning continued to examine the backside of the eight by ten he was given and gave no special notice to this information. General Pittman continued his recitation two seconds later.

"Kyle is averaging a B plus in school. He's an outstanding athlete and is likely to be offered several athletic scholarships by the end of his senior year. He is presently holding a B plus average at Roswell High."

"Next, we have Eve Glasser," General Pittman announced after sliding the eight by ten across the table. "Seventeen… a student at Goddard… adoptive parents are Robert and Denise Glasser. The father owns and runs three cleaners and Mrs. Glasser maintains the home… Eve is holding a B average and has no record outside of school worthy of mention."

General Pittman picked up the next eight by ten an instant after this, examined it and then extended it to Secretary Drenning. A second later he began his report on individual pictured.

"Jason Ross… seventeen… a student at Goddard… adoptive parents… Bruce and Suzanne Ross… employed pharmacists… both of them… Jason is presently holding an A minus average at school."

General Pittman looked into the folder and retrieved the final eight by ten after this. He examined this one slightly longer than he did any of the others and passed it to the Secretary with a hint of a flourish.

"Finally," General Pittman spoke with emphasis. "We have Elizabeth Parker. Her adoptive parents are Jeffery and Nancy Parker. They own and operate a restaurant. She holds an A average at Roswell High and she was arrested along with Maxwell Evans for trespassing onto the White Sands Missile Range."

General Pittman paused for two seconds to let this much sink in. He then continued with his final bit of information about Liz.

"We owe Ms. Evans for this discovery," General Pittman announced without referring to the paper in front of him.

Secretary Drenning looked up from the eight by ten in his hand to give notice to this remark. General Pittman provided the explanation without urging a second later.

"She was accidentally shot during a fight in her parent's restaurant. The doctor, who operated on her, Dr. Whitesell, was so impressed with her recovery that he sent samples of her blood to a lab to be studied. The results of that study eventually got to us. If it wasn't for her we might never have known about any of them."

The Secretary of Defense, Patrick Drenning, looked back down at the picture of Liz Parker and pondered over it for a dozen seconds. Everyone else in the room watched him as he did this. At the end of this time he looked up at General Pittman and gave his decision.

"Okay, we continue to watch them. Let's allow them to finish their senior year. This at least will give us time to search for fourteen. I would prefer to get them all at once. There's no telling what fourteen will do if he's alerted that we know about him."

Secretary Drenning paused again to ponder something. Five seconds later he continued giving his deliberation.

"After they graduate, the day after they graduate… I want them all picked up, them and their parents."

"What if we don't find number fourteen by then?" Deputy Secretary Bartley questioned.

"We'll have to risk it," Secretary Drenning explained in an even voice.

"Why are we waiting until after they graduate?" General Garber questioned with a look of confusion.

"When they graduate, they'll stop being under the protection of the public school system," Secretary Drenning instructed from off the top of his head. "The parents will be the only problem we'll have to deal with after that."

"The public school system has no jurisdiction in this," General Garber countered softly. "These teenagers are aliens."

"Yes," Secretary Drenning agreed. "But they can make noise. To stop them from doing this we would have to assert our authority, publically."

Everyone paused to consider this thinking. Three seconds later, General Snyder spoke into this silence with a shake of his head.

"Mr. Secretary, I think this would be a mistake. What if they decide to leave at some time between now and then? I really think we should pick them up right now."

"I don't think so," Secretary Drenning countered in a ponderous tone. "These kids were two years old when this Lieutenant Hytner extracted them from wherever she got them. They may not know who, or what, they are."

Secretary Drenning paused for several seconds to sort through his thoughts. Everyone noted that he was not finished and waited on this. At the end of this he continued explaining his thinking.

"I think when those aliens crashed outside of Roswell, whatever plan they had crashed with them. Lieutenant Hytner wasn't part of the plan. I think she was an improvised solution to a problem."

A second after this, Secretary Drenning perked up as if he had just thought of something brilliant. He then finished his thought with assertion and a hint of excitement.

"I think we have an opportunity here gentlemen. I don't think these kids know who or what they are. I think they're stranded here… orphans, with no memories of their past lives. And I don't think they're going anywhere."

Secretary paused to think about this for a few seconds and then finalized his decision with one more directive to his Deputy Secretary, Bartley.

"The day after they graduate, and not a day longer, I want this Roswell Thirteen quietly collected and locked down. All of them."

"Yes, Mr. Secretary," Deputy Bartley replied.


	45. Chapter 45 Family Matters

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 45: Family Matters

Liz directed Max to steer the jeep to the back entrance of her home. She did not want his presence to obstruct the business she came home to attend to. By coming in the back way she anticipated that her parents would not see Max or his jeep. She knew the large bay windows at the front of the restaurant and the apartment upstairs would give them an unobstructed view of the vehicle she arrived in.

Max quietly rolled into a parking space at the rear of the Crash-Down Café. Twenty seconds behind, Maria parked her Jetta into a space beside his. She had followed Liz home to find out if the suspicion of the others was true. In the car with her were Michael and Isabel. They too were curious, but with far less dread for the answer.

Even before Max had switched off the engine, Liz was out of the jeep and hurrying for the back door of the restaurant. Once inside, she raced up the stairs to the apartment and found her mother in the kitchen.

"Where have you been?" A startled Nancy questioned loudly.

Liz moved to within two feet in front of her mother as she ignored the question. For a second she hesitated to say anything as she stared into her mother's eyes with a mixture of fear and dread. In her absence to respond, Nancy repeated her question. An instant after she did this, Liz whispered a question of her own.

"Am I adopted?"

The question took Nancy by surprise. A look of shock suddenly appeared on her face as she stared back at her daughter. Three seconds later she responded to the question with a question.

"Where is this coming from?" Nancy almost whispered.

"Did you and Dad adopt me?" Liz questioned back in a stern tone.

Nancy looked to be at a loss for words. The expression of fear on her face quickly grew more apparent. She held her breath as she pondered what response to give to this. Two seconds into this contemplation, Liz came to her own conclusion.

"I'm adopted," Liz whispered as she moved a step back with a startle expression on her face.

Liz concluded from her mother's silence that the answer to her question was yes. She knew if the answer was no she would have quickly said so. The sudden realization that she was possibly alien to this existence was causing an almost overwhelming sensation of fear within her. Liz took two more steps back as she stared into the empty space between her and her mother. Nancy noted the terror in her expression and stepped towards her with her hands out.

"You're our daughter, Liz," Nancy assured in a near pleading tone. "That's all that matters. We love you as our own flesh and blood."

Liz had no response for this as she continued to wrestle with the realization that she was somehow fundamentally different from everyone else on the planet. Her breathing became labored as her mind seemingly froze with shock. Nancy took another step closer and placed her hands on her arms in an attempt to embrace her. Liz jumped back from this without thought and without returning her mother's gaze.

"We were going to tell you," Nancy quickly reported in a hushed voice. "It's just that we didn't know the right time, and as time went on it just… got harder. You were… you are our daughter. It just didn't seem necessary after a while."

Liz's astonishment began to subside once she started processing the fear and concern in her mother's voice. For Liz, the ramification of being adopted was far more shocking than the fact of it. She knew her mother did not understand this and was probably experiencing some guilt about not telling her and fears that she might resent her for this. She understood that her mother had no idea that she, at that moment, was giving no importance to the fact that she was not biologically related to her parents. And Liz knew that she could never tell them that they had adopted an alien from another world.

"It's alright, Mom," Liz suddenly spoke up to calm her mother. "I'm okay."

Liz began to back away towards the living-room and the front exit to the apartment. Nancy noted this and adjusted her look to one of concern.

"Wait," Nancy called out as she continued to extend her hands out in front of her. "We have to talk about this."

"It's alright, Mom," Liz quickly insisted as she turned away. "I'm okay. I just need to be alone for a little while."

"Wait," Nancy called back at her as Liz opened the door to the apartment. "How did you know?"

"I'll be back in a little while, I promise." Liz declared back to her mother a second before closing the apartment door behind her.

The instant that Liz felt visibly and audibly separated from her mother she began racing towards the one place she most wanted to be at that moment. She hurried down the stairs at her best speed and ran out the back door. The first thing she noticed after exiting the building was Max, Isabel, Michael and Maria standing about by the cars waiting for her. She paused for two seconds to give them all a joint look and then she hurried over to Max and threw herself into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his chest as tightly as she could. The others looked on without saying a word.

"No," Maria insisted with a shake of her head three seconds later. "I'm not adopted," she insisted as she began moving back towards her car.

Michael immediately began moving with Maria as she moved away from the others. A look of concern was on his face. But no words came out from his mouth. At that moment, he could think of nothing to say that he believed would lessen her fears. Isabel was equally confused by the situation.

"I'm not one of you," Maria insisted as she moved, still further, back.

Michael reached out and took Maria by the forearm as he responded with a word, "wait."

Maria took a second to look Michael in the eyes and then spoke to him directly.

"It's not true. I'm not one of you," she insisted an instant before pulling away from Michael.

Maria turned away, raced over to her car and quickly got into the driver's seat. A second later she had the car started and a second after that she was backing the car into the alley. Michael's reactions were too late to stop her, or join her. He could do nothing but watch as Maria put her Jetta into drive and speed off down the alley. Nearly a minute later, he, Isabel, Max and Liz went after her in the jeep. There was no doubt about where she was going in any of their minds.

_Line Break_

Michael, Isabel, Max and Liz had been waiting outside of Amy's Balloons and Gifts novelty store for nearly ten minutes when Maria slowly walked out the front entrance with a stunned expression. Her hands were clasped to her midsection. Her gazed stared into the empty space between her and the ground in front of her. Michael hurried to her. He stopped just in front of her, and she stopped in front of him. Liz, Max and Isabel moved in around her. Maria paused, with a blank look, a foot away from Michael. Two seconds later, she took a step forward and leaned her body against Michael's. A second behind this, she wrapped her arms around his waist, and he, in turn, wrapped his arms around her shoulders. No tears came from Maria. For ten seconds she did nothing but hang onto Michael with a look of fear on her face. Michael whispered into this silence:

"It's going to be okay."

Three seconds later, Maria whispered back the question that was driving her fear.

"What are we?"

They clung to one-another for another twenty seconds while Liz, Max and Isabel looked on with expressions of concern and empathy.

"We should get back to the soap factory," Max instructed in a hushed voice at the end of this time.

The five of them paused just long enough to pull their thoughts back into the here and now. A minute later the five of them were on the road and on their way back to the abandoned soap factory. Eight minutes later Max's jeep and Maria's Jetta rolled to a stop outside of the building. Parked outside of the building was Jason's Ford Fiesta. The five of them knew that Jason and Aaron were inside the factory. They first felt the glow of their minds a minute earlier. They were also aware that there were two more minds in there with them, and that their minds glowed half as bright.

The five of them promptly exited the two vehicles and entered the abandoned factory with just a hint of trepidation. They all knew that the two additional minds had to be someone they had not seen yet. The five of them slowly walked into the store room in the back with searching looks. Their eyes quickly found Jason and Aaron and the two, attractive, teenage girls with them. The young lady standing next to Jason, hand in hand, was his girlfriend, Eve Glasser. She looked to be five-foot seven-inches in height. Her hair was shoulder length; a dark brown in color and her physique was lean and attractive. She was casually attired in a tan tee-shirt slightly faded blue jeans and sneakers. The young lady standing next to Aaron, hand in hand, was his girlfriend, Ashley Trilling. She looked to be five-foot nine-inches in height. Her hair was short; a very light brown in color and her physique was attractively athletic in appearance. She too was casually attired. She was dressed in a light blue string top tee-shirt, thigh length denim shorts and sneakers. Both girls had looks of fear on their faces. Jason and Aaron displayed mixtures of protectiveness and concern in their expressions.

Over the next ten minutes it was revealed in their discourse that Eve and Ashley were both seniors at Goddard High School and that the telepathy and telekinesis they possessed at that moment did not manifest within them until that day. In turn, all present shared their histories with them in intermittent bursts. Eve's and Ashley's fears increased with these narrations and they quickly joined in Liz's and Maria's dread of who they were, and what the future held for them. At the end of this time, their discussion was interrupted by the sensation of three powerful minds approaching.

Three minutes later, Tess entered the storage room with Julie and Jeremy behind her and without Kyle. This absence was what all, minus Eve and Ashley, noticed most. All eyes focused on Tess with looks of concern. She spoke to their unasked question shortly after entering the room.

"We couldn't find him," Tess spoke softly with a confused expression and a shake of her head.

"What do you mean, you couldn't find him?" Michael challenged an instant behind. "Didn't you call him?"

"He's not answering his cellphone," Tess reported with an almost dazed look to her.

"Max," Isabel spoke up in a voice laced with fear. "If Kyle is one of us then there is no telling what he might do. We have to find him."

Max was already considering this possibility, as was most others there. What no one had at that moment was an idea about how to find him. In the absence of this, Michael chose to give them all, the worst case scenario.

"The reason we can't find him is probably because he's at the Sheriff station telling his father right now," Michael fumed to no one in particular.

"You don't know that," Tess insisted sharply.

"Then why isn't he answering his phone?" Michael quickly countered.

Tess had no answer for this. And the others were equally stumped. After several seconds Julie softly spoke into the silence between them.

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions. There could be another reason why he's not answering his phone."

"I agree," Max quickly supported. "Let's not overreact. This could mean anything."

"Are you kidding me, Max," Michael responded abruptly. "We need to be thinking about getting out of Roswell."

"No," Isabel quickly countered in an alarmed voice. "Just because Kyle may have told someone that doesn't mean we have to start running."

"That's exactly what it means," Aaron countered calmly.

All eyes turned to Aaron for an explanation of this remark. After taking second to note their attentions, he provided one.

"If Kyle is like us, then he's the one person we can't hide from," Aaron spoke softly, but sternly. "And if he draws attention to himself then it won't be long before they start looking at everyone, especially us orphans out of the Holcomb Children's Home."

It was the engrained fear of being discovered, that they all had, that was driving this conversation. It was this fear that had them all desperate to find Kyle and to bring him into the fold. Max was the first to reason past this fear and to consider the possibility that this could be working in their favor.

"If he is like us," Max calmly spoke up. "Then he's probably hiding what he is from everyone around him."

"That's right," Isabel quickly supported. "He wouldn't tell anyone. It's not in us to do that, you know this Michael."

"I know it's not in me," Michael responded halfheartedly. "I don't know what's in him."

"I've thought about telling my parents on more than one occasion," Aaron announced casually. "I suspect most of us have."

Aaron examined the faces of the original faces after speaking these words. All were reluctant to disagree with this statement. Three seconds later Jason spoke into the silence.

"But none of us did," Jason softly asserted with a questioning inflection and a glance into the faces of all present. After the passage of two seconds, he finished his thought with the remark, "I think we keep trying to find him."

"I agree," Max supported an instant behind. "We can't react to worse case scenarios. If we're wrong then it could be a major blunder."

"And if we're right, we're screwed," Michael softly suggested a second behind.

Everyone went silent to consider all that had been said. Five seconds into this moment Tess's cellphone rang.


	46. Chapter 46 Better Late

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 46: Better Late

The night before Liz's and Maria's revelations, Kyle took Tess home and then he started his trip back to the park where his friends were waiting. It was late and Tess's curfew did not allow for her to be away from her home past eleven in the evening. Jim Valenti was much more lenient with Kyle's hours. This was due in part because of his age and sex. And in part because of the close friendship Jim had with the parents of several of Kyle's friends. Over the years the absence of a second parent gave Jim cause to lean on the assistance of his neighbors. It was not uncommon for Kyle to overnight at a friend's home. When Kyle reached sixteen years of age, the coordination of this practice was relegated to a phone call from son to father. Because of this Jim and Kyle Valenti were very informal about set hours. The only hard and fast rule between them regarding this subject was continuous communication. Each was required to keep the other informed about his comings and goings.

Kyle and his friends had no specific plan for that evening. It was the middle of the summer, school was out and the day just past had been hotter than most. When Kyle arrived back at the park he noted that some friends and acquaintances from his senior class, along with several juniors and sophomores along with several high school graduates from recent past years, had elected to take advantage of the sun's absence to play a game of football. Kyle quickly joined the contest and spent the next hour and a half at this.

The game finally played out at a quarter past one at night. The players quickly began to disperse in all directions for their respective homes. Kyle, along with his closest friends, Scott Bristow, John Reinhart and Gary Krosskove, delayed their departure to lie in the grass and rest out their exhaustion. While in this configuration they passed the time by exaggerating each other's foibles for the amusement of the group. For Kyle this moment was the cap to a very pleasant day for him. And this was the latest of many such pleasant days. Tess had become a central figure in his life. His happiness was suddenly dependent upon her being a part of his every day existence. His time with friends and family were all the more pleasurable because of her. The knowledge that he would soon be with her again kept his spirits high. And this engendered in him a desire to savior these moments that he valued with others.

Nearly three minutes into this interlude on the grass, John commented that Gary must have been eating popcorn before the game because he had butter all over his hands. This remark stirred everyone, but Gary, into laughter. Kyle was so amused by this that he felt the need to close his eyes and let out a heave of breath as he relaxed into the moment. Gary chose to defend himself from the belittling at this time. He countered with the accusation that Kyle's passes were a little off on this night. This remark drew laughs and howls from Scott and John. But Kyle barely gave it a notice. At the moment Gary made his remark Kyle was engaged in a fascination for a strange sensation he was experiencing. And the longer he concentrated on it the more pronounced the sensation became. Three seconds into this study he suddenly came to the belief that he was experiencing someone else's thoughts.

Kyle sprang up into a sitting position with a start and looked about into the faces of his friends with a shocked expression.

"What's wrong?" Scott inquired as he sat up in turn.

Gary and John followed their lead and sat up as well. All three looked to Kyle for a reply to Scott's question.

"Nothing," Kyle reported after a second of hesitation.

Kyle quickly convinced himself that he had just experienced a freak trick of the mind that would likely never occur again. Scott, John and Gary dismissed his startled reaction as nothing of any importance and concluded that the interlude was over. The three of them climbed to their feet, one after the other. Kyle followed their lead and got up on his feet as well and started walking across the field with the others. Kyle was not interested in the jesting going on, back and forth, between Scott, John and Gary. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts about the weird sensation he experienced a minute earlier. As the four of them slowly steered their way towards the parking lot, he lagged behind to give space to himself to ponder this. The others, engrossed in their own joviality, paid no notice. This brief freedom from their attentions encouraged Kyle to try and duplicate the experience. Three seconds into their stroll across the field, Kyle came to a stop, focused his attention onto Scott and closed his eyes.

There was an, almost, immediate sensation that tickled and tantalized at the perimeter of Kyle's mind. The effect was fuzzy and devoid of any significance. It was something akin to a tactile awareness that existed only within his head. An instant later he noticed that he could sense other things as well. There was also the sensation of grass all around him. He could not see it, but in some way, within his mind, it was just as real as if he did. There were also three physiques walking away from him. He could not see them either. But they were just as real within his mind's eye. These quickly became a distraction to him. The tingling static that he was feeling at first was gone. He quickly pushed these other sensations away and latched on to the figure that first gave rise to that sensation, the one on the left. As he focused in on this figure, the tingling returned. He followed it with his concentration and in his mind it seemed to grow with graduating intensity. Shortly the fuzzy sensation began to clear away similar to a video of a dissipating fog being played in fast forward. But he instinctively knew that he was effecting this change. He likened what was happening to a calibrating of his thoughts to clear away a haze. Shortly into this he discovered, and very much to his surprise, he was experiencing someone else's thinking. An instant behind this he clarified this perception. He was experiencing Scott's thinking. To his shock, Scott's thoughts were playing out on the edge of his mind like a movie on an IMAX screen. In that instant he knew that Scott was worried about him, looking at him, reaching for him and thinking a question about him, _what's wrong with him?_

Almost in that same instant, Kyle was awakened from his introspection by a sudden jerk. His eyes quickly opened wide with shock and found Scott standing directly in front of him with his hands clasped to his shoulders. In that same instant he heard him speak a question to him in an alarmed tone.

"What's wrong?"

Kyle hesitated for a second to gather his wits about him. And then he responded in an indecisive voice.

"Nothing, I-I was just trying to clear some ringing in my ears."

"What happened?" John spoke up boisterously. "Did you got hit a little too hard out there, Kyle?"

Gary gave this comment a loud laugh and a clap of his hands. Scott was still too concerned about Kyle to be amused.

"Hey man, you alright?" Scott questioned as he continued to give Kyle a studied look.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright," Kyle responded to Scott with an almost panicked expression as he backed away from him.

Scott noted this unusual behavior for Kyle and grew all the more concerned. John and Gary took note of this as well and quickly took on serious expressions.

"Whoa man, you look like you saw a ghost." Gary commented a second later.

"I'm alright," Kyle adamantly asserted with a tinge of anger.

Scott, John and Gary quickly backed away from their concern in reaction to this response. They all knew at that moment that Kyle was not going to express what was bothering him and that continued questioning was only going to anger him more. The three of them returned to their trek for the parking lot. Kyle followed their lead two steps behind.

Despite his claim to the contrary, Kyle was worried that he was not alright. The sudden onset of this ability was shocking, but this was only a minor event compared to the sudden sensation of panic that he was experiencing. For some reason, that he did not understand, he knew he had to hide this peculiar ability. A near phobic regard for any association with another person rang out within him like an alarm. His mind was nearly overrun with worry about what was happening to him. The leading answer to this inquiry was that he ingested, somewhere/somehow, some form of hallucinogen. Even as he wrestled with this idea, he could not dissuade himself from the reality that he read Scott's thoughts. And the fear within him pinged every time he came back to this realization.

"Am I riding with you?" Scott questioned Kyle with a concerned look.

This was not a question that Scott would usually ask. It was the accepted practice between the four of them that John would ride in Gary's car, and Scott would ride with Kyle. However, Scott was reluctant to make this assumption at that moment. This was due in part because he arrived at the park, with John, in Gary's car. Kyle's date with Tess had made his usual transport unavailable. The second half of this reason was Kyle's mood. Scott knew that something was disturbing him and thought it best to ask rather than to assume.

"No," Kyle quickly responded to Scott's inquiry.

Kyle nervously hesitated to find a suitable excuse for this answer. After a second of thought he rifled out and addendum to his reply.

"I have to hurry home."

Scott accepted this answer without question, despite the fact that he did not believe it. He simply felt that he had no recourse in this. Confused by Kyle's behavior and a little concerned about his wellbeing, Scott, John and Gary left for home in the latter's car. Kyle watched them drive away. A minute later Kyle drove off alone.

Kyle had too much on his mind to sleep. The question about what was happening within him, and the fear it was creating, was causing too much turmoil within him. He suspected his father was asleep by this hour and would likely not awaken until early the next morning, so long as he did not disturb him. He was reluctant to go home for this reason. The last thing he wanted to deal with was questions from him. To avoid this event, Kyle steered his car away from home. Fifteen minutes later he rolled to a stop on a desolate stretch of road west of Roswell, off U.S. Highway 70. He told himself that he would spend thirty minutes to an hour here trying to calm his fear. After falling asleep two hours later he was awakened by the ringtone of his cellphone at sunrise the next morning.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Kyle earnestly apologized to his father through the phone. "I fell asleep over Scott's place. But I'll be home when you get back from work."

Jim Valenti accepted this explanation for his son's overnight absence with very little displeasure. He expected this would likely be the reason why he was not at home before he made the call. He admonished his son to give him a forewarning in the future about these sleepovers. And then he bid him a good day and hung up the phone.

The sight of the morning sun just starting its assent over the eastern horizon caught Kyle by surprise. He was still half asleep from his partial night's rest when he took his father's call. What he wanted to do at that moment was return home to his bed. But he knew that the lie he told his father excluded him from doing this for at least another hour. So instead, he inclined back into his seat and fell asleep again.

Three hours later Kyle was awakened, once again, by his cellphone's ringtone. It took him thirty seconds to awaken enough to check the caller ID and note that Tess had made the call. He had, up until that moment, given no thought to her. The shock of what happened after the football game, during the night just passed, had all of his thoughts fixed on this. It was only at this moment that he began to weigh her into this new situation. And the effect that this generated was an acute sensation of fear.

Kyle sat up in his seat and stared at his phone as he examined his relationship with Tess in earnest. The thought of being in a close relationship with anyone was cause to make him tense, the sudden realization that he was in one already sent shock waves of panic through him. The alarm this generated stirred him to full awake. He took another minute to ponder this before electing to hear the voicemail that Tess left.

"Hey, good morning, I'm awake so give me a call when you hear this message."

Kyle's unease grew with the hearing of this message. He knew that he and Tess were supposed to spend the day together. He had promised to call her that morning and discuss the particulars of this. At that moment he knew that he was too unsettled to make the call, let alone spend the day with her. Despite this fear, he could not imagine not being with Tess. He argued with himself that this fear he was experiencing was irrational. However, despite all his efforts he could not shake off the sensation of terror he was feeling. After nearly an hour of debate with himself, Kyle got out of his car and set off for a ridge of rock that was situated fifteen feet up from a wide expanse of desert wilderness. As he watched the shadows slowly move across the landscape, Kyle continued his deliberation.

By the time that Tess had finished leaving her fourth message on his cellphone; Kyle had spent all of that morning and three hours of the afternoon struggling with his thoughts. Her last message was left only two minutes earlier by this time. Kyle had not listened to any of them since the first message. He knew that she was calling to find out where he was and what he was doing. These were questions that he did not want to answer, at least not until he knew how he would proceed with their relationship. Now that time was closing in on him, he decided to force himself to accept what he felt compelled to do. There was no rhyme or reason to it. There was no rational that supported this position. He could not think of one good reason why he needed to break up with Tess. But something inside of him was in conflict with any other option. Once he had decided to commit himself to this action, Kyle took up his cellphone started listening to her messages.

Tess's messages were as he expected. One after the other, with increasing concern, inquired about where he was and if anything was wrong. This theme ran true through the first three messages. But when he listened to the fourth one, he was shocked by what he heard.

"Kyle, I know you're experiencing something that you don't understand. And I know it frightens you. You're experiencing strange sensations …and you're …hearing thoughts that are not yours. Kyle, you have to call me. Let me come to you. I'll explain everything …it's alright …everything is going to be okay."

How could she know this, was the first thought that came to Kyle. His mind leapt from there to thoughts that something she gave him, some food that he ate, was responsible for his condition. He rummaged through his memories of all that they did the day before, searching for the answer. After thirty seconds of this, he brought his phone up before him and dialed out Tess's number.

"What's happening to me? What did you do?" Kyle questioned in an almost desperate tone.

"Kyle, where are you?" Tess questioned in a compassionate voice.

"What did you do, Tess?" Kyle questioned back in an almost demanding tone.

"Let me come to you, Kyle, please," Tess implored loudly. "I can explain everything when we're together."

Kyle took a few seconds to consider this request and then he responded to it in the manner that he thought best for the situation.

"I'll come and pick you up," Kyle nearly whispered in a submissive tone.

"No," Tess quickly countered. "I'm not at home. I need to come to you."

Kyle was a little confused by this response, the tone more so than the words. After a second of thought, he responded to this with a question.

"Where are you?"

An instant after making this request, Tess resubmitted her request to come to him in a sterner voice.

"You can't get to me, Tess," Kyle explained with a bewildered inflection. "I'm parked on the side of Lookout Road, a couple of blocks south of the seventy."

"I'll be right there," Tess instantly responded a second before disconnecting the call.

Kyle had no idea how Tess planned to get to him. His best guess was that she had access to her father's car, or even more likely Julie's. And he did not understand her need to come to him. He thought it more practical the other way around. His present location seemed too desolate for a meeting between them. Nonetheless, she was on her way and he could do nothing at this point but wait.

Twenty minutes later, Kyle heard the rumble of several cars approaching. He stood up from his perch on the edge of the ridge and looked north towards the highway. In the distance he could see the dust cloud that the vehicles were churning up in their wake. He pondered the possibility that Tess might be in one of the vehicles. But the fact that these vehicles were approaching in such a tight group gave him reason to dismiss this. He thought it was more likely that this was a party of people who were out there for a reason that had no connection to him. He was just about to accept this premise and turn away when he felt a sensation that took his breath away.

Kyle maintained a fixed stare on the vehicles as they approached with a mixture of wonder and fear. The sensation, which was growing with their approach, convinced Kyle that the occupants were there because of him. He recognized Max Evan's jeep, but the other two vehicles were foreign to him. When the vehicles parked near his and their occupants got out, he began detecting twelve separate origins for this charged atmosphere that was engulfing him. His eyes first latched on to the sight of Tess climbing out of the jeep. Three seconds later his eyes darted back and forth across the faces of the company she was with. He could think of nothing to say or to do as they approached. He suspected that the answer that he had been looking for, all night, was about to become known to him. But he was, at this moment, further away from that answer than he had been at any time in the past.

Tess and her company of eleven others, some he knew, others he did not, walked towards him at an unhurried pace. Shortly they came to a stop at a distance no more than ten feet from him. Kyle stared at them in silence as he waited on someone to speak. Three seconds later, Tess spoke to him in his thoughts.

_It's alright, Kyle, it's me, Tess. You're with friends. We're just like you._

Kyle suddenly brought his hands up by his head. A mixture of shock and terror was grimaced across his face.

"How did you do that?" Kyle screamed back at Tess with a wide-eyed look.

_You can do it too._ Tess responded in his thoughts.

"Did you do that?" Kyle inquired of Tess with a look.

Tess responded in the affirmative with a nod of her head.

_We all can._ Max projected a second later.

Kyle quickly looked to Max in response to the new thought message. The feel of it was no different than Tess's. But he could sense that it originated from where he was standing. Kyle took a couple of seconds to stare into Max's eyes. And then he looked about him at all the eyes staring at him. A dozen seconds later he asked the question that he most wanted the answer to.

"What's happening to me?"

_It'll be quicker if we show you,_ Max projected behind this question.

Max knew that there were others within the group who were not fully up to speed on all that was happening to them, and around them, as well. To save time with explanations, he thought it best if they simply merged their minds into one. He knew this process would instantly bring the newcomers up to par with the original seven. He looked about him for any dissent in this idea. He saw a couple of faint signs of reluctance, but the original seven were in agreement with this. At the end of this silent poll, Max began projecting his thoughts out to the group.

"_We need to merge our minds into one. We've done this before. This is the quickest way to explain to everyone all that we know. To do this you will need to silence your thoughts. And permit the minds around you to blend in with your own. It will feel unusual in the beginning. But once the connection is made, that will go away. After we have done this, we will all know as much as there is to know."_

A second after projecting this message Max closed his eyes and began the process of merging his mind with those around him. The remainder of the original seven quickly followed his lead. The remaining six followed their lead one to three seconds behind. Shortly after this, the group began relaxing into long deep breathes. Ten seconds later their breathing began to synchronize into a single rhythm. A few seconds later the auras of their minds were merged into a single collective consciousness.

All thirteen of them stood atop the ridge, with their eyes closed, for more than seven minutes. For the whole of this time their individual identities were gone. A new aggregate self, that was invisible to the eye, formulated into existence among them. The collective memories of all spilled into this new identity instantaneously. The experiences, the feelings, the understandings and the knowledge of any one of them became the property of all. Over the course of this time their collective mind touched upon things more than fifty miles distant in all directions. The size and scope of their combined auras was nearly twenty times as great when there were only seven of them. When they finally dismantled the merge, the thirteen of them looked upon one-another, for the first time, without the existence of an unanswered question among them.


	47. Chapter 47 Lunch Hour

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 47: Lunch Hour

The newly formed group of thirteen passed through the next four days with near shocked expressions on their faces. The discovery by six of them that they were not who or what they thought they were, and the discovery of their existence by the other seven, had all of them more worried and confused than at any time before in their lives. Up until this point in their existence, the events that occurred in their day to day lives comprised the majority of their concerns. Over the previous decade, questions about who they were and where they came from were recurring, but incidental, thoughts. The discovery that there was some design behind their existence had them all panicked over the thought another shoe might fall someday.

It was quickly agreed upon by all thirteen that their coming together could not have been a coincidence. The fact that they found and attached themselves to one-another, was thought to be, by all, too improbable to be an accident. The popular theory among them was that they were programmed, in some way, to come together at this point and time in their lives. The question that had them unnerved about this the most was why. The speculation they all were considering was that there might be another program within them ticking down to activation. This absence of control over what was going to happen next had them all frightened.

Each of them, some more than others, wanted to hold on to the lives they grew up in. This transition that they were going through felt like a threat to what they valued most, their identities. None of them knew who they were or what the future held for them. And their greatest fear was that there was no life worth living in this future that was developing in front of them. All of them, sooner or later, came around to the idea that they were stranded in an existence with no place else to go. And all had a worry that some future event, that they could not control, would make it impossible for them to stay as they are.

These scenarios weighed heavy on the thinking of the thirteen over the four days following their discovery of one-another. For all but one of them there was nothing else going on that could distract them from these thoughts for any significant period of time. Isabel was the one exception in this. She had one additional concern that was persistently in her thoughts. It was the fact that the other members of the thirteen paired up before knowing the truth about one-another. This suggested that she might have a mate too. But the fact that they had yet to find each other caused her to worry over the possibility that maybe she did not.

On the fifth day, following their coming together, the group of thirteen began their first day of high school as seniors. Max, Liz, Michael, Maria, Kyle and Isabel returned to Roswell High with no idea how they should act around one-another. The six of them, along with the other members of the group of thirteen, had spent the previous four days almost exclusively in each other's company. Between the merge and the time they spent together since, the group of thirteen were closer to one-another than they ever were with any of their other friends. They all knew that this new association was in conflict with what others considered normal behavior for them. During the four days prior, other concerns superseded any discussion about how they should behave at school. It was not until this day that their phobia against being seen as disconnected from others forced them to bend their minds to this question. This subject was of greater concern to Isabel and Kyle than to the others.

It was because of this concern that the first day of their senior year began in much the same fashion as it did during the last day of their junior year. Max, Liz, Michael, Maria, Kyle and Isabel returned to the routines and associations that everyone they knew expected to see. The one barely perceptible difference was seen in Max and Liz, and Maria and Michael. The two couples, for the first time, felt free to ratify their statuses with complete indifference to anyone else. A far less notable change in their behavior was the casual greetings between the six. They all gave one-another, at the least, a discrete nod. But they did not go much beyond this. This was their behavior all the way up to fourth period lunch. And then all of this changed.

The bulk of the senior class had their lunches during the fourth period. This was true for Max, Liz, Michael, Maria, Kyle and Isabel. There were no plans to make any deviation in their behavior here. Max and Liz, and Michael and Maria, congregated separately at a remote table, as usual. And Kyle and Isabel sat with their usual group of friends. All were accepting of this until Max started projecting his thoughts.

_What are you doing?_

Liz, Michael and Maria were close enough to get a sense of where this thought originated. Isabel and Kyle could only discern that it originated from someone at their table. They both considered the possibility that the question was directed at them. They could see no need for anyone at the table to be projecting to anyone else there. At their earliest convenience, both Isabel and Kyle responded, in kind, with a request for an explanation.

_Michael is reading someone's thoughts; _Max projected this answer to Kyle's and Isabel's inquiries.

_Michael, what is it? _Maria projected an instant behind.

Suddenly there was an eruption of thoughts being projected at Michael that were originating from the table where he was sitting. Kyle and Isabel wanted to know what was going on and projected questions to this effect. Max, Liz and Maria were fielding their inquiries in between requests for Michael to explain what he was doing. This separation quickly frustrated Kyle and Isabel. They often did not know who was thinking what. But the primary cause of their frustration was the repeated calls for their attentions and/or a response to a question from the people sitting at their table.

"You alright, Kyle…?"

"Isabel, what's wrong?"

The process of projecting their thoughts meant that Kyle and Isabel had to concentrate on the act. Due to the repeated interruptions of the friends around them, this they did, off and on, for more than a minute. Finally, Isabel had taken all that she could bare and promptly got up and excused herself. With more than a little surprise, her friends watched her walk over and seat herself at the table with Max, Liz, Michael and Maria. Kyle was quick to follow her lead and left his friends with a promise to return.

Kyle sat at the table with Michael, Max, Liz and Maria just in time to note that the next projected thought originated from Isabel.

_What's going on?_

_He has to be reading someone's thoughts, _Max projected back to her. _And he's not responding to us._

They all knew that the act of reading the thoughts of someone required uninterrupted concentration. Making the link and holding it was a continuous activity. Conversing with anyone else, on any level, would necessitate the breaking of this connection to do this. None of them could tell who Michael was focusing on so long as his gaze stayed fixed on the table in front of him. They shortly concluded that they had to wait for him to come out of his trance. And this he did thirty seconds later, with a look of alarm.

_We're being watched, _Michael projected to the group.

_The other students have been watching us for the past year, _Max quickly projected back.

_It's not a student, _Michael projected. _It's the new cafeteria worker behind the counter. She's watching us …the six of us …and only us._

Michael had noted the new worker the instant he entered the cafeteria. There was nothing interesting or exceptional about her. Michael was just a little bit paranoid about strangers in his environment. It was because of this that he took notice of her actions. And, in turn, this caused him to shortly become alarmed enough to want to peek inside her head.

_Are you sure? _Kyle projected.

The group instinctively concluded that they needed to be circumspect in what they did. All were not prepared to speak aloud until the truth of what was happening was revealed.

_Her primary interest is in keeping an eye on us, _Michael projected with a stern look to Kyle. _Someone has to get inside her head and push,_ he projected a second later, to all present.

The six of them knew that pushing inside a terrestrial human's mind meant forcing that person to think thoughts the mind reader wanted to hear. Michael's surface scan only read what she chose to think about during the time he was linked to her. The danger in pushing was that it invariably left telltale disruptions in the brain that could either be ignored by this person, or it could set off an alarm. The difference between these two events was determined by how softly the mind reader treaded, and by how deeply he or she probed. They all knew that rummaging around in the brain of a terrestrial human, searching for data, would almost certainly require that the mind reader encourage this person to forget about the brief, weird, experience. And he or she would need to plant a suggestion to discourage any interest in the loss of time. All but Michael had no experience in this. Their concerns about being discovered precluded them from doing this, without some extreme motivation. This, they all concluded, was an extreme motivation. Michael waited on the others to give him the okay to push.

_No, Michael, _Isabel projected with a look. _You do it, Max._

Michael quickly returned Isabel's look and shortly determined that she wanted a report from someone she was more inclined to trust. Michael then turned his attention to Max and seconded this choice with the projected thought, _okay, Max, you do it._ Max looked to Kyle, Liz, and Maria and was given their okay, each in turn. After taking a few seconds to see if there were any second thoughts among them, Max turned his attention towards the table and then focused the aura of his mind onto the brain he was about to invade.

From across the room Max began luring the blonde female cafeteria worker into a trance. Ten seconds later she went rigid with a fixed stare. As soon as her brain went silent, it became his to command. Max then started to gently push questions into her mind that she subconsciously began to answer. It took him nearly a minute to extract the information he wanted and another thirty seconds to erase the entire episode. A few seconds after this, the blonde awakened from her trance with a shake of her head and a look of confusion. The incident had her mildly perplexed, but she quickly dismissed it and went back to her work.

_Who is she? _Michael projected the instant Max looked up from the table and began scanning the faces of the others.

There was a mild look of shock on his face as he hesitated to report what he had learned. The others waited on his response in anticipation that he would eventually give it. After all of five seconds, he projected out this answer.

_She's a Department of Defense operative …Air Force Intelligence …First Lieutenant Laura Burton …She's watching all of us …she doesn't know why. Her job is to watch and report. And she's not alone._

The table went silent after this report, both vocally and telepathically. For nearly thirty seconds all eyes remained focused on the space between them and the table as their minds pondered the ramifications of this report. Suddenly, at the end of this time, Michael projected a thought.

_We have to leave._

_We can't, _Kyle quickly countered. _They're watching us. Which means; they've already considered the possibility that we might run._

_I agree, _Max promptly supported. _If we run they'll collect us for sure._

_They're going to do that any way, _Michael projected with a scowl towards Max. _We need to leave now while we can._

_As long as they keep watching us this gives us time to figure something out, _Liz projected out with a worried expression.

_Figure what out, Liz, _Michael countered with a look towards her.

_Who they are… what they want… why are they watching us… They obviously know something that we don't, _Max projected with a pondering look.

Michael became intrigued by this thought and gave no response while he pondered it.

_I think we should go back to our normal patterns, _Kyle projected into the debate. _We don't want to give them reason to believe that we're conspiring together._

…_Agreed, _Max projected in response to this.

_What do we do when we find out what they want, Max, _Isabel projected with a worried look.

Max returned Isabel's look. He understood her fear and sympathized with it. After a short pause he projected his response.

_Whatever we have to..._

_We have to tell the others, _Michael projected with a new alertness.

_I'll do that, _Kyle projected with a look to Michael.

_No vocal communications on this subject, _Michael projected an instant behind this with a stern look at Kyle.

_Agreed,_ Kyle projected back as he returned Michael's look.

Two seconds later Michael began glancing into the faces of the others for their agreement.

_Agreed… Agreed… Agreed… Agreed… _


	48. Chapter 48 What Have We Here

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 48: What Have We Here?

Lieutenant Garrett Seitz and Lieutenant Gary Holguin had been sitting in the back of their Ford E-350 van outside of Roswell High School for three hours. Neither of them knew why they were surveilling a group of high school teenagers. They both were way past a little annoyed with the entire operation. This was due to the fact that neither of them were given a reason for this surveil or apprised of any ongoing investigation involving these kids or their parents. This was their sixth week at watching the movements of thirteen senior class students who, each, attended one of the only three high schools in the city of Roswell, New Mexico. And, despite this, they still had no idea what they were looking for or when the operation would be completed.

Seitz and Holguin had never been a part of anything like this. Their work in the past always involved an investigation that was connected to a criminal act perpetrated against Air Force property or personnel. This information was always given to them at the beginning by their immediate superiors. With regards to this operation, they knew more than their superiors. And this was next to nothing at all. They were simply handed off to a Major Ryan Kawecki and instructed to do as they were told. The time and resources that the Air Force was putting into this surveillance had them both believing, at first, that something big and important was going on. But time and observation had worn this perception thin. The teenagers they were watching appeared to be as harmless as any they had ever seen. They saw no evidence that they were even experimenting with cigarettes and alcohol, let alone illicit drugs. And several of the thirteen teenagers appeared to have only a passing awareness of some of the others.

In the beginning the popular suspicion among the thirty-seven AFOSI (Air Force Office of Special Investigations) agents working this surveillance was that these teenagers were involved in some prank that was impacting a local Air Force installation, or possibly even hacking into the Air Force communication network. But even in this they always thought it strange that they were not advised of the specific offense in the beginning. By this time, the popular position among the agents was that no one cared anymore. Everyone saw these kids as inoffensive and all had grown tired of following them around and recording their every move.

It was a hot a day in mid-September and Seitz and Holguin were halfway through the last hour of their surveillance shift when the two teenagers they knew as, Max Evans and Liz Parker, appeared on their video monitor. They noted them with expressions of exasperation even as Seitz began focusing the camera lens for a closer picture. This dissatisfaction was directed at the situation and not the teenagers. They both knew that the two teenagers would likely remain where they were for an hour. This meant that they would have to continue recording even though the next shift team was on site. There orders were to never separate an event between two teams.

This was just one of the little things about this assignment that was wearing their patience thin. Both Seitz and Holguin believed this would be a minor annoyance if someone gave them a valid reason to endure it. But it was this absence of information or an explanation that was making these small inconveniences feel like large nuisances.

"Are we recording this?" Seitz inquired as he toggled the joystick and zoom control.

Seitz was sitting in front of a monitor in the back of the van. Holguin was sitting to his left in front of a control panel. The exterior of the van had no emblems or markings. On the top of the van was a raised equipment rack with a pair of ladders latched atop it. The head of a periscope camera, disguised to look like a vent, protrude up through the center of the roof just high enough to peer out beneath the equipment rack. The two teenagers, Max Evans and Liz Parker, were little more than fifty yards distant.

"Yeah, we're recording," Holguin quickly retorted as he sat back in his chair and watched the monitor in front of Seitz.

Max and Liz walked out onto the school's athletic field and had just taken a seat in the grass by the football field when Seitz and Holguin began recording. They sat themselves, crossed leg, in front of each other and talked for a brief time with intermittent smiles and giggles. A couple of minutes later, they opened the book they each had in their possession and began to read. Seitz and Holguin quickly bored of this.

"Here goes another hour of reality TV, the boring edition," Holguin quipped snidely.

The only response Seitz gave to this was a large yawn. He then fixed a blank stare onto the monitor and continued watching the video. Holguin followed his lead and focused his attention onto the monitor as well. The interior of the van was hot. The vents built into the vehicle gave them some relief, but not enough for them to notice it. Both men were attired in khaki pants and polo shirts. A pair of battery operated mini fans were constantly whirring as they pushed air onto them. Orders prevented them from running the van's engine to power the air conditioner. It was decided that this would be too conspicuous. For the agents involved in this operation, this was just one more reason to be peeved at the secrecy associated with this operation. Over the next fifteen minutes, they intermittently drank water to hydrate themselves as they sat in silence and sleepily gazed upon the monitor.

At the end of the fifteen minutes of silence, Agents Seitz and Holguin were startled wide-awake by three thumps on the side loading doors of the van. They both quickly spun around and fixed their attention on the door. Curtains covered the windows to prevent anyone from seeing in. Both men were reluctant to open the door or the curtains for this reason. A second later, Seitz advised Holguin that he would go out and instructed him to stay there. Seitz then stepped through the blackout curtains that separated the front cabin from the rear of the van. He quickly climbed into the passenger seat and looked through the window towards the rear of the van. He instantly took notice of a uniformed Deputy Sheriff standing in front of the side doors. And he noted him in turn. Seitz opened the passenger door and stepped out of the van with a smile on his face. After the closing the door behind him, he greeted the Deputy with an equivalent demeanor.

"Hello, Deputy, how can I help you?"

Deputy Sheriffs Zack Lerner and Ronald Heaps had been out on patrol for almost two hours when they first took notice of the white van situated on the street next to the football field outside of Roswell High School. They saw nothing unusual about the vehicle. But the fact that it was there did pique Deputy Sheriff Lerner's interest. He had a fairly thorough knowledge of the vehicles common to this neighborhood and their owners. And this one was uncommon and familiar at the same time. Deputy Sheriff Lerner recognized the van as one he had seen several times before over the past few weeks. But he had no idea who it belonged to or why it was there. This was due to the fact that it was situated in a new location each new day that he saw it. Deputy Sheriff Lerner had an innate talent for memorizing makes and models of vehicles. And he instinctively fixed vehicles that he regularly saw to their owners.

What made Deputy Sheriff Lerner doubly intrigued about this van was the fact that it was not the only vehicle to hold the distinction of being an infrequent visitor somewhere around Roswell High School. He had noted other vans parked outside of the school that kept reappearing once or twice a week. The return of this van made him think of the Toyota Cargo Van that he had seen in this area the day before, and the Chevrolet 2500 Passenger Van that he frequently saw here. The more he thought about it the more suspicious he became. He quickly recalled half a dozen vans or small cargo trucks that appeared to have parked somewhere outside of this school on more than one occasion. After a quick tally of this recollection, Deputy Sheriff Lerner ran a search on the license plates of the van in front of him. When the readout showed that the vehicle was US Air Force property, his partner instructed him to dismiss it as nothing important and to continue their patrol. This he did despite his suspicion that something unusual was going on here.

Two hours later, Deputy Sheriff Lerner steered his patrol car back to Roswell High School. He then parked his patrol car a short distance behind the white Ford E-350 van. His partner thought the decision to do this was a waste of their time. But Deputy Sheriff Lerner argued that they had no better use for their time at that moment. Both he and Deputy Sheriff Heaps then staked out the vehicle for nearly five minutes. At the end of this time they were both startled to attention when they noted that movement from within was rocking the vehicle. This was when Deputy Sheriff Lerner decided to go knock on the van door.

"License," Deputy Sheriff Lerner requested with a somber expression.

Lieutenant Seitz knew that he had done nothing to warrant this request. But he also knew that it was best not to be anything less than cooperative. He quickly produced his license and military identification card and extended them to Deputy Sheriff Lerner.

"Is there something wrong, Deputy?" Lieutenant Seitz questioned with a pleasant demeanor.

Without responding to his question, Deputy Sheriff Lerner took the identifications and promptly went back to his patrol car with them. Deputy Sheriff Heaps stood on the sidewalk and watched Lieutenant Seitz from nearly twenty-feet away. Two minutes later, Deputy Sheriff Lerner returned to Lieutenant Seitz with both ID's in his hand.

"What's your business here, Agent Seitz?" Deputy Sheriff Lerner questioned with emphasis on the word agent.

"No business," Lieutenant Seitz responded with a slight shake of his head. "I'm just admiring the community."

The pleasant expressions of the Lieutenant was having the opposite effect of what he intended. Deputy Sheriff Lerner's experience told him that the person in front of him was being deceptive. After taking five seconds to examine the Lieutenant, he extended his identification cards to him while asking a question.

"It looks like you've been admiring the community for some time now," Deputy Sheriff Lerner countered with a stern look.

"Really," Lieutenant Seitz spoke back with a feigned look of surprise. "I must have lost track of the time."

Deputy Sheriff Lerner took a couple of seconds to study the Lieutenant with a look of disdain on his face. At the end of this time, he made another inquiry.

"Weren't you here last week, admiring the community?"

"That's possible, Deputy," Lieutenant Seitz answered with a nod. "I don't keep track of the places I visit."

Deputy Sheriff Lerner had reached the end of his patience for the game that Lieutenant Seitz was playing. He turned towards the side loading doors of the van and pointed to them with a scowl.

"What's in the van?" Deputy Sheriff Lerner gruffly challenged.

Lieutenant Seitz quickly picked up that the pretense of civility period was over and promptly dismissed with it in the tone of his response.

"You'll need a search warrant to find that out."

The two men exchanged looks that bordered on animosity. Deputy Sheriff Lerner knew he had no chance of getting a search warrant. And he also knew that it would be hazardous to his career to issue a citation, detain or attempt to run him off without a strong provocation. After another ten seconds of glaring at one-another, Deputy Sheriff Lerner turned away, went back to his patrol car and got in behind the wheel. He promptly shut the door behind him. A second after this, Deputy Sheriff Heaps got into the car, on the passenger's side, and shut his door behind him.

"Who is he?" Deputy Sheriff Heaps questioned an instant behind closing the door.

"He's an OSI agent," Deputy Sheriff Lerner answered as he gave Lieutenant Seitz a last look.

Deputy Sheriff Heaps was surprised by this answer. He expected the occupant to be someone in the military because of the plates. But he did not expect him to be anyone who could possibly be there in an official capacity.

"What's he doing here?" Deputy Sheriff Heaps asked with a surprised inflection.

Deputy Sheriff Lerner put the patrol car into gear just as Deputy Sheriff Heaps finished his question. As he steered the patrol car back into the street, he gave him the only answer he thought appropriate.

"I don't know. But he's not admiring the community."

Lieutenant Seitz watched them drive out of view before returning to the interior of the van.


	49. Chapter 49 Cops and Spooks

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 49: Cops and Spooks

The task of maintaining surveillance over the thirteen suspected extraterrestrial teenagers, twenty-fours a day, seven days a week, was given to Ryan Kawecki. As a reward for taking on this task, he was promoted to the rank of Major. He was not eager to take on this task for several reasons. The first among these was simply his feeling that he was not qualified to do the job. Ryan never thought of himself as a field operative, and more importantly he never aspired to be one. There was also the matter of time and distance. To do the job he knew he would have to separate himself from his family for a minimum of nine months. This was the opposite of the situation he was trying to create by transferring into the Defense Intelligence Agency. He also had his concerns regarding the morality of this action. He knew that the plan eventually called for the apprehension of these teenagers. What made him feel uneasy about this were the thoughts he kept entertaining about what would happen to them after this. However, despite these qualms, Ryan feared that turning down this task and the promotion that came with it would stall and possibly stop any future advancement in the Air Force.

Ryan had no idea how well, or poorly, he was doing at his job. He had nothing to measure this against. He relied heavily on his senior Lieutenant, Colin Guskin, for advice and to implement whatever directive he decided to give. He based his orders on what he thought would best achieve the overall objective. And as far as he could tell, he was fulfilling these objectives, for the most part. He still had not found extraterrestrial number fourteen. But, the other thirteen seemed completely unaware that they were being observed. Keeping them in the dark was a key part of his mission. Keeping their parents and the local population equally unaware was another part of this mission.

To achieve the tasks that were given to him, Ryan rented a three bedroom house, in a remote area ten miles outside of the city, and set it up as the home base for this surveillance operation. His thinking here was that an isolated location would enable his agents to come and go without arousing the suspicions of neighbors or the local authorities. He was fairly confident that he had achieved this up until the day that Chaves County Sheriff, Jim Valenti, drove up the unpaved road to the house and parked. A uniformed Air Force Lieutenant intercepted him and inquired about his business.

"I want to speak to the officer in charge," Jim responded dryly and with a stern look.

The Lieutenant acquiesced to this request after hearing Ryan's voice, in his radio earpiece, instructing him to do so. The Lieutenant escorted him into the house and ushered him to the master bedroom that Ryan was using as his office.

"Sheriff Valenti, won't you have a seat," Ryan greeted with a smile.

Jim returned the smile with a nod and then took the seat proffered in front of Ryan's desk.

"I'm Major Kawecki," Ryan continued a second after Jim took the seat. "And how can I help you today?"

Jim paused to give Ryan a studied look before responding to his inquiry in a steady voice.

"Well Major, you can tell me what you're doing here."

"Actually, Sheriff Valenti," Ryan responded in a pleasant voice. "That's the one thing I can't do."

"Really," Jim reacted with a minor display of surprise. "Because it looks to me like you've setup a little mini base here on civilian property. And I would think that would make it something you are required to share with the civilian authorities."

The mini base remark was directed at the satellite dishes, the antennas, the mobile communication vehicle and generator truck parked outside, and the half dozen computer stations and operators situated in the living-room of the house. All of the monitors were conveniently turned off when Sheriff Valenti passed through the room. This was done so that he would not see that they were tapped into Roswell's video surveillance feed.

"Well, Sheriff, with all due respect," Ryan countered with continued pleasantry of tone. "I believe that if you checked with your superiors you'll find us in compliance with the law."

Jim accepted this answer with a nod and a smirk. This fact was not a surprise to him. However, the decision to use it instead of giving him an answer was. He pondered over this for a couple of seconds and returned with a suggestion that he hoped would encourage Ryan to be more cooperative.

"Well, I guess we could contact the Governor and see what he thinks about Air Force Personnel setting up camp in the middle of his state."

"The Governor of New Mexico has already been advised of our presence," Ryan reported calmly.

"Really," Jim reacted with intrigue. "I'm surprised he didn't tell me about this."

"I'm sure that's because there's nothing to tell," Ryan quickly suggested with a smile.

"Oh, but there is," Jim pounced back. "A week ago, a couple of my officers ran into one of your people in Roswell."

"Air Force Personnel go into Roswell all the time," Ryan retorted with a vaguely confused look.

"Yes, but my officers tell me that it looked to them like this Air Force lieutenant, in civilian clothing, was staking out Roswell High School," Jim countered with a hint of smugness.

"That has to be a mistake," Ryan casually corrected.

"That's what I said," Jim spoke with a mischievous smile. "But the problem I've been having with that answer is that my people can't seem to turn the corner around one of our high schools in Roswell without bumping into one of your people."

Jim briefly paused with a smile to give weight to this remark. At the end of this time, he added a question.

"So, you want to tell me what you're doing in Roswell?"

"No, Sheriff Valenti," Ryan began soberly. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't do that either."

"If something is about to happen in Roswell, then it's my job to learn about these things, preferably before they happen." Jim retorted sternly and with a steady stare.

"Nothing is about to happen, Sheriff Valenti," Ryan stated impassively with a fixed look on the Sheriff.

"Then you'll be moving along soon," Jim stated with a questioning inflection.

"Yes," Ryan quickly assured with a nod of his head.

"How soon…?" Jim queried quickly and without deviation to his stare.

Jim was well past trying to get a straight answer from Ryan. His only thought by this time was to get a reaction out of one of his questions.

"When we're finished," Ryan answered in an even and unemotional voice.

Jim took a moment to imbibe this answer. A second later he began to smile. Despite this expression, Ryan's continued acts of deflecting his question were actually annoying him with ever greater intensity.

"When you're finished," Jim parroted with a smirk. "Well, I'm sure the Governor doesn't know that a lot of Air Force spooks are snooping around the public schools in one of his cities," he finished with more than a hint of irritation.

Ryan was unperturbed by anything that Jim was saying. In his mind, the deed was done. The Chaves County Sheriff Department was snooping around his surveillance operation and he knew there was nothing to be done to undo that. His thinking here was simply to continue deflecting Jim's inquiry until he gave up and went away. After this he would address the issue of minimizing their interference.

"I'm sure he doesn't," Ryan responded calmly. "And that's because we're not conducting any operations inside the city of Roswell."

Jim visibly fumed at this response. He sat back in his seat and glared at Ryan for all of three seconds before verbally reacting to it.

"So, no cooperation, no professional courtesy," Jim spoke bluntly. "Okay, then don't expect any from me. If one of your spooks so much as drool on my sidewalk, I'm throwing the book at him."

Jim waited on Ryan's response to this. He was not expecting him to give up anything at this point. But he was not about to leave until he was sure that he had Ryan's final word on the subject.

"I'll pass the word, no drool," Ryan responded with a shake of his head. "If there's nothing else, Sheriff Valenti, I have work to do" he added a second behind.

Jim gave Ryan a smile of defiance and then got up to leave. After walking halfway to the door, he stopped and turned back towards Major Ryan Kawecki with a quizzical look.

"Oh, there is one thing you might be able to help me with, being how you're in the Air Force," Jim queried with feigned politeness.

"And what's that?" Ryan questioned with a smile.

"What's the Air Force's interest in Max Evans and Liz Parker?" Jim questioned with a hint of a smile expressed on his face.

"What do you mean?" Ryan reacted a little too quickly and with a hint of a start. An instant later he regrouped himself and tendered a second response. "I-I don't know these names."

"Oh well, they're just a couple of kids here in Roswell who were caught on Air Force property about a year back," Jim explained with a pleasant demeanor. "I just thought that you might know if the Air Force is planning any legal action against them or their parents?

"I don't know anything about that," Ryan responded with a hint of abruptness. "But I'm sure, if they were going to do something, they would have done so by now."

Jim looked to be pondering this answer for a couple of seconds. And then he responded to it with an expression of agreement.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Jim gave Ryan a quick smile before turning about and leaving his office. Despite the last minute looks of pleasantry, Jim was still very angry about the secrecy around this operation that Major Ryan Kawecki was commanding. But he drove away knowing that he extracted one victory out of the engagement. Major Ryan Kawecki was lying when he said he knew nothing about Max Evans and Liz Parker.

Sheriff Valenti was not the only one that walked away a little wiser for this meeting. The fact that Jim was aware of their surveillance operation inside Roswell was no great surprise to Ryan. His agents reported the incident with the Deputy Sheriffs outside of Roswell High School less than an hour after it happened. What Ryan then believed, courtesy of this meeting, was that Jim Valenti was unaware that his son was one of the teenagers being watched. Within minutes after watching Sheriff Valenti drive off, Ryan pulled off all eyes on surveillance of Kyle Valenti. He suspected he could handle any official channels the Sheriff of Chaves County my attempt to learn about this operation. But he feared a protective father might go outside of these channels.


	50. Chapter 50 Watching the Watchers

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 50: Watching the Watchers

The Roswell Thirteen first became aware that they were being followed on a hot mid-September day. Max and Liz went into the park, outside their high school, during a study break. While sitting there, in the grass, talking and reading, they saw two Deputy Sheriffs approach a parked van and call out the occupant. This event caught their attention for no more reason than the fact that they could see it. Curiosity motivated Max and Liz to peek in on the thoughts of all involved there. Shortly after reading the thinking of the man that the Deputy Sheriff had called out, they learned of a second man inside the van. A dozen seconds later, they learned that both men were agents of the Air Force Office of Special Investigations, and that they were in the act of video recording them. From the Deputy Sheriffs they learned something of importance as well. They learned that this was not the first van that they had seen staking out their school.

Max and Liz shared this information with the other members of their group of thirteen at their earliest convenience. In reaction to this, they all began actively scanning the thoughts of the people around them, especially people in parked vehicles. Within a week's time they had mapped a web of surveillance that tracked their movements and kept watch on their homes and their schools. They discovered that cameras, with high powered lens, and sound amplifying microphones were frequently recording them whenever they were outside.

Within two months' time, the thirteen had learned the names and faces of all the agents who were shadowing them. However, despite all of their mind reading, they still did not know why or to what end they were doing this. They were all eager to know the motivation behind this extravagant surveillance. They all knew that the base reason had to be because they were drastically different from the general population. What they did not know was how they came to be this way. Within two weeks of watching their watchers, they had all become desperate to learn everything they knew about them.

After three months of mind reading, all that the Roswell Thirteen had learned was that the watchers they could see and read knew less than they about what was going on. They were all little more than puppets who were simply doing what they were told. Not being able to get at the minds that were pulling the strings of these puppets had become increasingly frustrating to them all. The one thing they did learn was the name of their immediate commander. But none of them had yet to get close enough to read the thoughts of this Major Ryan Kawecki. And they thought it best not to do what was necessary to reach him for fear of revealing that they knew they were being watched.

Because of their preference for appearing oblivious to these OSI agents, the Roswell Thirteen forced themselves to be contented with just watching the watchers. They trusted that someone who knew something would eventually get close enough to have their mind read. In the meantime, what minor information they did gather was passed along between them telepathically. They never openly did anything that could reveal that they were different. And they avoided saying anything that suggested they knew they were being followed. The thirteen had no idea how long they could, or would, keep this charade going. All of them, minus Michael, were reluctant to leave their homes, and their parents. All were resistant to leaving the vicinity. And they all were interested in discovering what their watchers could tell them about themselves.

As time went on, the Roswell Thirteen grew increasingly unconcerned about their watchers. This condition was reinforced by the thoughts they were reading from their minds. It became quickly obvious to them that these people were under strict orders not to disrupt their lives. Gradually the Roswell Thirteen settled back into their routines, for the most part. All of them, minus Isabel, found comfort in this. The freedom to be a couple publicly gave six pair of them the feeling that their relationship would endure regardless of whatever else might happen. For Isabel, the status of being romantically unattached to anyone else made her feel isolated and alone. And the sight of the others, moving about as pairs, only aggravated this sensation.

Max noted Isabel's growing depression and tried on many occasions to lift her spirits. This he managed to do to a small degree, for brief periods of time. Her parents, Phillip and Diane Evans, noticed her increasingly sullen behavior as well. They inquired about it to Isabel and to Max, numerous times. But the answer they got back never seemed to be a match for Isabel's state of mind, in their opinion. Their feelings on the subject gradually focused in on the fact that their daughter had no boyfriend. This thinking, eventually, lead to an embarrassing conversation between them and their daughter. This ended with a loud, angry, emotional outburst from Isabel. Phillip and Diane were so unnerved by her reaction that they resolved to wait until after she passed through whatever phase, they hoped, she was in before broaching the subject again.

Phillip and Diane also came to a concession with regards to their son and Liz Parker. Shortly into Max's and Liz's senior year, they both concluded that the relationship between the two of them was too intense to try to discourage. They feared that their disapproval was pushing them together. This new position was greatly assisted by Isabel's confession that she had misjudged Liz. The sight of Isabel and Liz socializing from time to time gave Phillip and Diane cause to give Liz a second chance. Liz was welcomed into their home and she made good use of the opportunity. She charmed her way into their affections despite all their efforts to resist her.

Jeff and Nancy Parker came to a similar resolution with regards to Max. They still feared that he was a threat to their daughter's future. But they did not want to give him ammunition in this. Frightened that Liz might rebel against them and do the opposite of what they wanted, the Parkers gave Max permission to visit their daughter. This decision was helped by their determination to not be upstaged by Phillip and Diane. Here too, Max took full advantage of the opportunity. He ingratiated himself with the Parkers at every opportunity. Unfortunately his gift for cajoling others was not as adept as Liz's. Nancy Parker was frequently amused by his clumsy attempts to befriend her; just the same she kept a wary eye on him. Jeff Parker was not amused at all and distrusted him all the more for the attempts. Nonetheless, he felt obliged to endure him. Liz was a straight A student again. And regular, secret, searches of her room produced no more condoms.

The romantic relationships between the six couples, which made up the Roswell Thirteen, were hampered somewhat by the surveillance of their watchers. This was true more so at the beginning and less so towards the end. Often their public appearances were more performance than spontaneity. But they always knew when they were and were not being recorded. And as time passed, and they began to relax into their surveillance fish bowl, the spontaneity became more pronounced when they knew that they were truly alone.

The feeling of constraint, which came with this surveillance, was especially acute for Michael and Maria. Their relationship was much further along than the others. And the limitations that came with having their movements observed regularly were extremely frustrating to them, at first. It took them a couple of months to adapt to this. They started plotting their times and locations to enjoy each other's person with reckless abandon. Invariably this was either his or her home when the parent was away. By the end of these two months, they cared nothing for the fact that they were being followed. Their only requirement was that they were not being watched.

A factor that none of the Roswell-Thirteen were calculating into their acceptance of this situation was their dreams. Since their last, and only, merge between all thirteen of them, they were all having protracted, shadowy, dreams of an outcrop in the middle of the wilderness. The intensity of the dreams surpassed any they had before this. Much of what they were seeing in these dreams was lost to them in their waking hours. But the residue of it was always there. And the influence of it was equally present. Subconsciously, all of them were driven to stay and answer the call of this phantasmal entity. The pull of these dreams lured them through their senior year with its imperceptible effect on the decisions that they made. As time went on, the trancelike hold of the dream lulled them into an indifference regarding their watchers. None of them thought to buck the effects of these dreams until a startling piece of information came along.

_I am so tired of this dust bowl. I'll be glad when these brats graduate and I can finally go home._

Max read this thought out of the mind of one of the watchers outside of his school just as he was speaking the words. He captured this thought during his second period math class, as he stared through the window at the van he was in. He passed it along to Isabel, Michael, Liz, Maria and Kyle during fourth period lunch.

_We need to find that outcrop, _Michael mentally projected across the cafeteria.

_If we go stomping around in the desert they're going to become suspicious, _Isabel projected back.

_They're already suspicious, _Michael counter projected.

_What if nothing is out there, _Kyle projected into the debate. _What if these dreams are just a memory of something that once was?_

_We have to do something, _Maria projected in her support for Michael.

_If we start acting different they may decide not to wait, _Kyle projected back. _Doing the wrong thing could cost us the time we have left._

Isabel, Liz and Maria were clearly feeling ill at ease because of this conversation. Isabel's look of anxiety prompted an inquiry from Emilie, who was sitting across the table from her.

"You alright…?"

"Yeah… I'm just not feeling well at the moment," Isabel responded with a surprised look towards Emilie.

"Maybe you should go the nurse's office," Emilie suggested back.

"I'm fine… I'll be alright," Isabel insisted with more than a hint of exasperation.

The three young ladies seated at the table with Isabel took note of her unpleasant temperament and turned their attentions away from her.

Kyle, too, was having problems managing the telepathic exchange he was having and the vocal converse that was going on at the table where he was sitting.

"Yo, Kyle, what's up?" Scott loudly inquired.

"I've got something on my mind," Kyle suddenly reacted with a stern look at Scott.

"You want to share?" Scott questioned with a large grin on his face.

"No, I don't," Kyle sharply retorted with a scowl towards Scott.

A second after this, Kyle sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and focused his attention on the plate in front of him. Scott and the others at the table quickly realized that he did not want to be a part of their conversation and began directing their comments to one another.

_We have to meet, all of us, _Max projected at the end of several seconds of thought on the subject.

_We can't,_ Liz projected a second behind his remark. _If they see us all together, they'll suspect that we're conspiring to do something._

_That's just it, _Max projected back with a solemn look towards Liz. _We have to do something._

Max continued to look into Liz's eyes with a mixture of fear and affection in his own. Three seconds into this he projected an addendum to his last thought.

_We graduate in two weeks. _


	51. Chapter 51 Welcome to Roswell

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 51: Welcome to Roswell

It was a quarter past one-o'clock on a Saturday afternoon; and Tess had been leading her father through the Walmart Supercenter for the past thirty minutes. She had no problems with this. Grocery shopping was the one thing they did together routinely. It was her time with him and she had no desire to change that. Her affinity for her father was the dearest relationship she had, outside of Kyle. Even then, with Kyle in her life, she could never consider doing anything that would hurt her dad. Abandoning their bi-monthly outings to the grocery store was one of the things she feared would be a painful loss for him. She had grown too old to be the little girl who snuggled next to her father while he watched the news. And her interests, and friends, outside of their home had turned much of their time together into brief greetings as they passed. For Tess, grocery shopping with her father had become a sacred event. And the coming event, that she feared would end this tradition, made this day all the more important.

There cart was nearly filled to the rim when Tess felt the energy of another mind like hers. This came as no surprise to her. She had crossed the path of Julie's aura here several times, and Aaron and Jason on a couple of occasions in this manner. She noted this with a slight, and brief, turn of her head before returning to the task in front of her. It had become second nature for her to remain inconspicuous while holding a telepathic communication. She patiently waited for a convenient time and location to stand still, and quiet, so that she could project a hello to whoever was there. This was not immediately possible while her father was conversing with her about a varied selection of laundry detergent. She entertained the discussion amicably; after all there was no hurry in this. She knew if there was anything important to be said the other telepath would have communicated it right away. After three minutes had passed with no form of communication from this other mind like hers, Tess became a little intrigued to know who this person was.

"I'm going to run and get a few things from the women's aisle," Tess notified hastily. "I'll be right back."

Desmond Harding agreed to this with a passing nod and then turned his attention to comparing packages of frozen vegetables. Tess quickly hurried off to a section three aisles over. She entered the aisle and stopped halfway down its length. The shelves were full of hair care products. She removed a bottle of conditioner off one of them and locked her gaze onto it as she focused her thoughts on projecting a message.

After thirty seconds of concentrating, Tess's demeanor changed into a look of confusion. She put the conditioner down by her side while she took on a ponderous expression. Her attention appeared to be fixed on the space between her and the shelves. After fifteen seconds of this, she went still, and erect. Her focus returned. She stared into the shelf in front of her, and did so for nearly two minutes with a blank expression. Suddenly, at the end of this time, she stumbled backwards with an audible gasp. She began to search the space in front of her with a glazed expression and several turns of her head. Nearby shoppers noted this with looks of concern for her wellbeing. Fifteen seconds later, in the middle of the aisle, she took a deep breath, composed herself again and projected a final message. Ten seconds later, she left the aisle and finished grocery shopping with her dad.

_Line Break_

It was five-forty-nine that Saturday morning when the Greyhound bus lurched to its final stop, at least for the next three hours, in the Virginia Street Station. Kenneth Burton was partially awakened by the jolt. His first thought was to ignore it. This was only the latest of many such jolts that had preceded it. He was just about to readjust his head against the back of his seat when the driver announced, "Roswell," over the intercom. He perked up and looked around in response to this. The door to the bus was promptly opened and passengers began climbing out of their seats. He quickly turned his head to the window and attempted to survey the city in the early morning light. He saw nothing worthy of any interest from him. Nonetheless, this was Roswell, New Mexico, and that fact alone was enough to nearly take his breath away.

Kenneth Burton watched as the bus full of passengers began gathering their things and started shuffling their way down the aisle and towards the door. He was in no hurry. He waited for the bulk of the occupants of the bus to leave before climbing up onto his feet and stepping out into the aisle. He slipped his jacket on, gathered his backpack from the overhead compartment and filed out of the bus with the last four passengers. The air outside was cool, but not cold. His jacket was more than a match for the weather. He zipped it halfway up to better insulate himself before walking ten yards out from the bus. He then looked about again and noted that the station was little more than a space that was set aside for Greyhound buses. He then fixed his attention in the direction that looked to be better developed and started walking in that direction.

Standing six-feet three-inches tall, with dark shaggy hair that he regularly combed away from his face with his fingers, Kenneth Burton was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His facial features were chiseled and rugged in appearance. His attire was casual. A dark blue, hip length, hooded, insulated jacket partially concealed a white, cotton, long sleeve, collarless, thermal shirt. His pants were granite colored khakis. And his feet were covered with black hiking boots.

Over the next two hours Kenneth Burton wandered about in an area that was roughly one square mile of north Roswell. There was nothing in the area that he particularly wanted to see. The city as a whole was more interesting to him than any point in it. He took it all in as he casually strolled about it. At the end of this time, he found a cheap motel and took a room in it. He paid for a one week stay, in cash. Within minutes of entering his room, he flopped down on the bed and went to sleep.

He woke up three hours later, refreshed and hungry. After sampling the weather outside, he abandoned the jacket at the motel. The temperature had warmed above the need for outerwear. He pulled the sleeves of his shirt up to expose his forearms and then set out to find his morning meal. Thirty minutes later, he came across a McDonald's Restaurant and went inside. By then it was too late for a breakfast plate. He settled for a hamburger, some fries and a soda. He sat by the front window and ate his meal while watching the flow of traffic, vehicle and pedestrian. He lingered there for much longer than it took to consume his food. He acquired a newspaper, left behind by a patron, and read through it to pass the time. An hour and a half later, he was finished with both his meal and the paper. He then exited the restaurant and began to wander again.

There was no pattern to his walk about. He simply needed to be someplace that he had not been before. By this time the traffic was at its most congested since the day began. The direction of flow of the bulk of the cars on the road drew him along like a magnet. There was no particular reason for this. He simply did not know where else to go. He did not know why he needed to be here. His actions were being governed by a feeling. From the beginning he had his doubts about coming to Roswell. And every minute there that did not produce an explanation for its allure gave added weight to this doubt. But it only took the leading instant of a thrilling new sensation to validate the entire journey. With a soft audible gasp, he drew in his breath in and held it as he spun around searching for the source of this titillating exhilaration that had suddenly engulfed him. After nearly five minutes of scanning the area, he could see nothing to explain the feeling he was experiencing. It was then that it suddenly announced itself.

_Hi, this is Tess. Who's this?_

Kenneth Burton froze with a look of shock on his face. He knew instantly that this greeting was a thought in his head. But he also knew that the thought was not his. He stood stationary waiting for this phenomenon to repeat. Fifteen seconds later, it did.

_Who's out there?_

Once again he was nearly overwhelmed by the sensation of someone else's thought echoing in his head. He began to look about him as he slowly rotated. He focused in on every individual he could see, no matter the distance, and then quickly moved on to the next when they did not appear to be looking for him. He had been doing this for nearly a minute when the process was interrupted by a new thought that was not his.

_Stand still… Relax… Concentrate on feeling everything around you with your mind… Think about what you want to say… Now, make everything you feel resonate with the words that you're thinking._

Kenneth was stunned by these words that resounded in his thoughts. He pondered this message with an expression near to terror on his face. Fifteen seconds into this he felt another message resounding in his head.

_I can't hear you until you do this._

Kenneth understood what this message was telling him to do. But he could not help but question if someone was actually talking to him in his thoughts, or if he was just dreaming it all up. Five seconds after the last message, he decided to try and do what the message said. After taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his surroundings. He could feel the space around him, and everything within it, radiating inside his head. He focused on this sensation until it was as vivid as he could make it. And then he projected a thought into it.

_Who are you?_

It felt to Kenneth as if he had extended himself somehow. But he had no idea if he had communicated with anyone, or just made a fool of himself. Five seconds later he received his validation.

_I told you who I am. Who are you?_

_How are you in my head? _Kenneth projected back with a stunned expression.

Almost immediately, the question came back to him.

_Who are you?_

Kenneth continued to be surprised by each new thought that echoed into his head. He paused after the last one and assimilated what he was being asked. He then responded to it with a thought that he extended out from his person.

_My name is Kenneth Burton. What's happening to me? Why am I here?_

Kenneth waited for a response to his inquiry. After fifteen seconds of nothing he projected his unease with the quiet.

_Who am I? What am I? How can I do these things? Tell me what's going on._

Three seconds later, he got his response.

_Meet me behind the Supercenter at a quarter to three. I'll tell you what I know then. Don't speak to anyone about this. That's important. We're being watched._

Kenneth Burton made several more attempts to communicate with the mind that was tingling inside his head. But he received no reply. Thirty minutes later the tingling sensation was gone. And he resolved at that moment to wait on its return.


	52. Chapter 52 A Meeting of the Minds

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 52: A Meeting of the Minds

Max, Liz, Michael, Maria and Isabel were the first to arrive at the abandoned soap factory. They came together in two vehicles, Max's jeep and Maria's Jetta. Isabel rode in the back of the jeep with her arms crossed. She did not enjoy being the fifth wheel of this group. And whenever they traveled together as one, this vexation was easily doubled. The five of them went to the storage room at the back of the building and began their wait in silence. It was fifty-three minutes after two o'clock on a Saturday afternoon.

Four minutes later, Jason's Ford Fiesta rolled up to the abandoned soap factory and parked. Jason, Eve, Aaron and Ashley promptly got out of the vehicle and went into the derelict building that once served as a factory for making soap. It took them a minute to make their way to the storage room in the back. The four of them filed into the large room and took up positions opposite Max, Liz, Michael, Maria and Isabel, and an arm's length apart from each other. Nothing was said between them vocally. But all were communicating their greetings to the others telepathically.

Just as Jason, Eve, Aaron and Ashley were entering the storage room, in the back of the old soap factory building; Julie and Jeremy were climbing out of the former's 2006 Subaru Outback. They quickly entered the building and took up positions with the others in the rear storage room. They too gave their greetings telepathically and then joined in on the discussion that the others were holding in the same fashion.

The topic of conversation that was raging between them all, telepathically, was the possible plans that OSI had for them after they graduated from high school. For the past three days, all eleven there had been gathering their own information regarding this. Between them there was only one with a report that was news to the group. Julie had read from one of her watchers that things appeared to be gearing up for a new phase in this operation. The group debated the varied possible interpretations of this. But in the end they all agreed that speculation was a waste of their time.

It was at this time that Kyle's Mustang GT began its approach up the access road to the soap factory building. The group of eleven within the building felt his approach, but they think nothing of the extra brightness of the mental signature within the vehicle. He and Tess were expected to arrive together. Their combined minds were expected to appear as one at that distance. The group of eleven continued their telepathic converse as they monitored their coming. It was not until the car rolled to within twenty yards of the building that they were able to separate the radiant mental signatures in the vehicle into three minds. The conversation between them stopped as all eleven spun around and focused their attentions towards the front of the building.

For the next three minutes, the group of eleven within the soap factory monitored the approach of the minds coming towards them. Nothing was said between them as they waited on the visage to support what their minds were telling them. None of them dared to project out to the approaching minds. Their number suggested that at least one of the three was unknown to them. And this fact had them anxious about all three. The second before Kyle stepped into the room, all eleven were holding their breath. At the sight of him they exhaled their relief, but held their focus on the doorway. Three steps behind Kyle, Tess followed him into the room. The two of them moved three steps into the room and to either side of the doorway before stopping and turning their attentions back towards it. Two seconds later and six steps behind, Kenneth Burton stepped through the doorway.

Kenneth maintained an expression of apprehension after stopping two feet into the room. Tess and Kyle had not told him much since picking him up behind the Walmart Supercenter. They limited their communication to telepathy only. And they instructed him to do the same. He inquired often and repeatedly about what was happening to him. Their only response to this was their assurance that all would be revealed soon. They also told him that there were others like them here in Roswell and that he was being taken to meet the rest. Kenneth felt ill at ease about this entire experience. The secrecy and surreptitious behavior had him worried about what he had gotten into. But the need to know compelled him to follow along.

When Kenneth stepped into the storage room of an old, derelict, factory and saw eleven additional faces staring at him with blank expressions, he froze with more than a hint of fear on his face. Their presence was not a surprise to him. He was told where he was going and that eleven others like him would be there. And he felt their presence half a dozen minutes before actually seeing them. What made him so tense at this moment was the knowledge that this was the moment when whatever was going to happen was going to happen. He waited in silence for what felt like ten seconds but in reality was only two. At the end of this time he began to perceive a litany of questions and answers erupting in his mind.

_Who is he?_ Aaron projected.

_Kenneth Burton…_ Tess projected.

_Where did he come from?_ Ashley projected.

_He's been living in Cedar Rapids, Iowa for the past eleven years._ Kyle projected.

_He used to live here in Roswell._ Tess projected.

_What's he doing here now?_ Jason projected.

_Same thing we are I suppose._ Max projected.

_Are there any more like him?_ Michael projected.

_No._ Kyle projected.

_How did you find him?_ Maria projected.

_Where did you find him?_ Eve projected.

_He found us._ Tess projected.

_How long has he been here?_ Liz projected.

_He just arrived today._ Kyle projected.

_Is he alone?"_ Julie projected.

_What does he want?_ Jeremy projected.

_Why did he come?_ Aaron projected.

_Does he know who we are or where we come from?_ Michael projected.

_I suspect he wants the same thing we do, answers._ Max projected.

At this distance, Kenneth could easily discern the origin of each question and answer. It took less than a minute for him to comprehend that everyone there was just as confused as he. This knowledge calmed him a little. And as a result, he began scanning, back and forth, over the many faces in front of him. After two, slow, swings of his head, he stopped halfway through the third and focused his attention on the only face there that was not asking any questions or giving any answers. Their eyes locked into a stare at each other. The sight of her studying him with an amazed expression caused him to go completely relaxed. The longer he looked at her, the more captivated he became. He thought her stunningly attractive at the first instant of seeing her. And she became increasingly so the longer he stared. He knew at this moment that she was the one person there that he could never leave willingly. Whatever danger that she feared he would face it with her. For the first time since learning of their existence, he felt like he was where he belonged.

Isabel was equally enamored with the tall young man that entered the room last. She and he alike fell under each other's spell. Everyone else in the room fell away into the distance as they fascinated over one another. Without having said a word, they felt a desire to kiss and to hold each other in their arms. When the temptation became so powerful that they almost lost themselves to it, they pushed back from one another. To their surprise, when this happened, they suddenly woke up and discovered that they had moved to within two feet of each other. And that everyone there was watching them in silence.

_I'm Isabel_.

Isabel projected this after a brief moment of embarrassment and behind a bashful smile. Kenneth projected his response a second behind.

_I'm Kenneth. _

Isabel and Kenneth lingered their stares into each other's eyes. After nearly ten seconds of this, Max took two steps forward and projected his thoughts into the silence between them.

_We're stronger together. Anything we do, we have to do together. If they're going to collect us after we graduate, then we have to know this. We have to merge. We're stronger now …and I believe, for the first time, we're all here. _

Max turned to face Kenneth straight on. And then he began to project his thoughts again.

_Kenneth, we're being watched and listened to by agents of the Air Force. There are at least half a dozen of them outside this building. They know about you now. You're one of us. I'm sorry._

_Why are they following you? _Kenneth projected.

_Everything will become clear to you after we merge._ Max projected.

_What do you mean… merge?_

Kenneth projected this question with a curious look towards Max.

Isabel promptly stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his arm before projecting a response to his inquiry.

_You'll understand everything after we've done it._

Kenneth accepted this answer without question. He followed her lead as she gently pulled him back beside her. The others reacted to this by forming up into a circle an arm's length away from the person to either side of them. Thirty seconds after doing this, the Roswell Fourteen began to merge. Kenneth followed the lead of the others. With their guidance he learned to relax his mind and blend into the collective consciousness forming between them. Suddenly a new mind, a single mind, came into existence and replaced the fourteen that was there before it. Its aura extended out for more than fifty miles in every direction. This was the largest collective consciousness they had ever constructed. Kenneth was instantly brought forward to the same chapter of their collective existence. Within the first minute of forming, the collective mind of The Fourteen began registering a clear image, and a precise location, of the outcrop. The mystery of where it was and what it looked like was instantly gone. An instant after this, they directed their collective consciousness on the eight OSI agents outside of the factory. They noted that two of them were using extremely sensitive microphones with parabolic dishes in an attempt to hear what they were saying. The collective mind of The Fourteen focused in on the mind of an agent who was calling out to give a report. And they listened in on all that he said and heard.

_Line Break_

"All thirteen are inside the building," the agent reported curtly. "Plus one …a male… I've never seen him before."

"Young or old…?" Ryan's voice questioned back through the phone.

"He looks to be about the same age as the others," the agent answered without hesitation.

"Follow him," Ryan insisted an instant behind. "Get me a picture and a name, as soon as possible."

"Yes Sir," the agent acknowledged in a perfunctory manner.

"What are they talking about?" Ryan sharply questioned an instant behind that response.

"They're not talking at all, Sir," the agent reported with a hint of bewilderment.

"You sure…?" Ryan questioned back with a surprised inflection.

"They're in a large, empty, porous building," the agent explained defensively. "We've got two microphones on them. We can hear every step they take. …but they're not talking. …they're not saying anything, Sir."

For five seconds there was nothing but silence coming through the agent's cellphone. At the end of this time he reacted to this with a question.

"What do you want us to do, Sir?"

"Don't do anything," Ryan answered in a soft ponderous tone. "Just keep me posted."

_Line Break_

As soon as this call disconnected, The Roswell Fourteen, extended their collective mind west of Roswell and searched for the voice that was on the opposite end of that call. Their search moved at the speed of light. Within a few seconds they found a large house with a dozen OSI agents in and around it. They quickly picked out of their thoughts that this was the command center for their surveillance of them. Two seconds later they found the person in command, Major Ryan Kawecki. They then peeked into his thoughts just as he began a call to his superior.

_Line Break_

"General, there's been a significant change in the behavior of The Thirteen," Ryan reported into the phone a second after it picked up on the other end. "For the first time since we began surveilling them, they've come together as a group."

"What are they were talking about?" General Pittman questioned back quickly.

"They don't appear to be saying anything," Ryan answered with a slight shake of his head.

"You mean you can't hear them," General Pittman contradicted with an annoyed inflection.

"The agent in the field is telling me that there is no vocal communication going on between them," Ryan responded back with a hint of insistence.

"They can't hear them," General Pittman insisted back at him. "Major, find out what's going on."

Ryan was not perturbed by the General's abrupt response. They had been working together for more than a year by then. And he had become quite accustomed to his manner. He simply waited for the General to finish with his bluster and then he continued with the report that he wanted to give.

"Sir, if The Thirteen are secretly communicating, then that could mean that this entire operation is compromised."

Ryan couched this remark in an earnest tone of voice.

"Nothing is compromised, Major," General Pittman rifled back. "You're reading too much into this. Have you learned anything else?"

"Yes," Ryan answered with a reluctance to change the subject. "We may have found number fourteen."

"Great," General Pittman bellowed excitedly into the phone. "Who is he?"

"We don't know yet," Ryan answered unenthusiastically. "But we'll have that soon. …Sir, we're hearing movement in the building."

"What are you trying to say, Major?" General Pittman questioned with a curious inflection.

"I think they may know about us, Sir," Ryan confessed his thought softly.

"Ridiculous," General Pittman challenged gruffly. "They haven't done anything to suggest that they know we're watching them."

"That's just the point, Sir," Ryan spoke back with intensity. "Everything they've done up until now has been out in the open. And then today, they all come together in an abandoned building and don't say anything, or at least nothing we can hear. I think we have to consider the possibility that they've noticed us."

"They don't know anything. Stop panicking, Major," General Pittman instructed with more than a hint of finality. "If they knew they were being watched, they would have ran-off."

"Sir," Ryan began in a tentative voice. "I just think that maybe someone should approach them. I mean, after all, they're just teenagers."

"They're not teenagers, Major," General Pittman emphasized with a definitive tone.** "**They're not even human. No one approaches them. You got that, Major?"

"Yes Sir," Ryan answered in a defeated voice.

"We keep our distance," General Pittman ordered in a harsh voice. "We wait for them to graduate. And then we pick them up. Work the plan, Major. You got that?"

"Yes Sir," Ryan softly acquiesced

"I want everything you got on this new kid first thing in the morning," General Pittman finished with finality an instant before hanging up the phone.

_Line Break_

The Roswell Fourteen backed their collective consciousness away from the building the moment the call disconnected. They then began to back away from the merge. After taking a few seconds to digest what they just saw and heard, the group began a telepathic discussion about how they should act.

_I say we leave, right now. We know where the outcrop is. I think we should take off and make a run for it._ Michael projected.

_We don't know what we'll find when we get there. This could all be a shared dream, or delusion._ Isabel projected.

_It can't be a delusion. We all saw it in the merge._ Jeremy projected.

_That's just it. We didn't see anything but a big rock sticking out of the ground. What if that's all that it is? What if we go there and that's all that we find._ Aaron projected.

_We know what's going to happen here. I say we risk it._ Michael projected.

_What about parents, are we supposed to just leave?_ Liz projected.

_I think we must._ Ashley projected.

_I say we just go away and come back after everything has quieted down here._ Aaron projected.

_We can't leave here without going there first. It's calling us. It's been calling us from the beginning._ Julie projected.

_We won't make it a mile out of the city if we all try to leave right now. They're watching us._ Kyle projected.

_Kyle is right._ Max projected.

_No one is saying that it isn't a risk._ Jeremy projected.

_If we leave Roswell they're going to come looking for us. And they'll probably find us, eventually. This could be our one and only chance at finding this …delusion. We have to take it._ Michael projected.

_We're being watched, constantly. How are we supposed to get away?_ Tess projected.

_They don't know that we know that. So maybe we can use that to our advantage._ Max projected.

_That's not going to be easy. They've got cameras recording our every move. They've got people watching us day and night._ Kyle projected.

_No, they watch us during the day. They watch our houses during the night._ Max projected.


	53. Chapter 53 No More Waiting

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 53: No More Waiting

"Mom, Dad, this is Kenneth Burton," Isabel introduced with a smile. "He's a senior at Goddard. I met him when I ran into Tess and Kyle at the park."

Phillip and Diane were more than a little surprised to see Isabel introducing a boy to them. This was a first, and they were both pleased and intrigued by this. They took quick notice that their daughter seemed to be almost protective of the tall stranger in front of them. She stood anxiously by his side, but slightly angled towards him. She held her hands behind her back as though she was trying to stop them from doing something else.

"Hi, Kenneth," Phillip greeted pleasantly after getting up off the couch and extending his hand.

Kenneth shook his hand with a tentative smile and a soft, "hello, Sir."

Diane got to her feet an instant behind her husband. She offered her hand to Kenneth as well along with a large smile followed by a, "hi, Kenneth."

"I invited Kenneth to dinner, if that's alright?" Isabel queried her parents with a hopeful expression.

"Oh, sure," Diane quickly responded with an eager inflection. "Your brother went to the show with Liz. So there's more than enough for a guest."

Diane and Phillip had been waiting for Isabel's return to start dinner. It was family protocol for any member to call if they were not going to be home in time to eat with the family. Max had already done this. But Isabel was expected to appear. She had not called to say otherwise and they were, at that moment, at the start of their dinner hour.

"So, I'll just set another place at the table," Diane quickly acknowledged an instant before rushing off to the kitchen.

It was five pm, Saturday. Isabel and Kenneth had just met two hours earlier in the abandoned soap factory. When the group of fourteen decided to disband, Isabel was reluctant to separate from him. And he felt the same way towards her. She promptly asked him home for dinner and he accepted just as quickly. Isabel had no idea where things would go from there and gave no thought to this. She was simply gratified that for the next hour or two she would be in the same place as he.

Over the course of the dinner, Phillip and Diane made polite conversation with Kenneth about family, school and future plans. He entertained their inquiries with as much charm and wit as he could manage. Isabel endorsed every remark with either a smile or a laugh. And she doted on him whenever she could. Phillip and Diane took special notice of their daughter's interaction with Kenneth throughout the dinner. They had no doubts that she was attracted to him. And they were nearly equally convinced that he felt the same way about her.

Phillip and Diane saw no reason to be anything but happy about their daughter's choice for a boyfriend. Kenneth was amicable, polite and well spoken. And they had little doubt that he was infatuated with Isabel. What little reservation they had was due only to the fact that they had just met him. However, this notwithstanding, they were very happy for his presence because of the pleasant effect he had on Isabel. Phillip and Diane savored this dinner more for Kenneth Burton than the meal.

_Line Break_

"Why are we going to Maria's?" Max asked as he steered his jeep through the streets of Roswell.

"It's just something that I have to do," Liz answered casually as she looked away.

"And you can't tell me what this something is?" Max questioned suspiciously.

"No, so just drive," Liz responded and admonished at the same time.

Max and Liz had just finished dropping Isabel and Kenneth off at the Evans family home and were supposed to be on their way to the Galaxy 8 Theaters. Liz requested this date at the end of the meeting at the abandoned soap factory. She had told Max that she did not want to spend the evening performing for his or her parents. And that she preferred to go someplace where he and she could be themselves. Max had no objection to this. Restraining himself and watching his words was never his idea of a fun evening. And the recent discovery that agents of the OSI were going to collect them in less than two weeks made this time all the more valuable to him.

They were a minute away from parking the jeep inside of the Galaxy 8 Theaters parking lot when Liz took a call on her cellphone from Maria. Max noted from the tone of the discourse that something of importance had just happened. He did not think to ask about it at the time. He expected Liz to advise him after the call. When she instructed him to turn about and go to Maria's home, immediately after hanging up, Max's curiosity increased. And this became doubly so when Liz declined to satisfy his inquiry regarding their new direction.

Max had noted that Liz looked to be a little ill at ease ever since they left the soap factory. He attributed this to the event that happened inside the building. But it was her reaction to the sound of her cellphone ringing that started him to wonder if something else was behind her agitation. It seemed to him that she might have been waiting for the call because of the speed of her answer. Still, Max was not overly perturbed by this suspicion. He suspected that he would learn all once they arrived at Maria's home.

It took them less than ten minutes to negotiate their way back to the other end of the city and the front door of Maria's house. Max noted upon arrival that Maria's car was in its usual place, beneath the car port. And he gave equal attention to the fact that Amy's car was nowhere in sight. Max's immediate assumption was that Maria and Michael were alone in the house. And that this event had something to do with the both of them and nothing to do with Maria's mother. This assumption held right up to the moment that he and Liz stopped outside the front door. To his surprise, Liz did not ring the doorbell. Instead, she reached inside her shoulder bag and produced a key to the front door.

"What's going on?" Max questioned after stepping through the doorway.

Liz closed and locked the front door behind them before turning to Max to address his question.

"We have the house to ourselves," Liz softly reported as she stared affectionately into Max's eyes.

Max came to an immediate understanding of what was happening. He returned Liz's stare with a knowing look but said nothing in response. Five seconds later, Liz added to her explanation that Maria took her mother out to a show and a meal and were due to return no sooner than three hours from then, per Maria's promise.

"She's going to give us a call when they're on their way home," Liz added at the end.

A second after saying this she took Max by the hand, led him through the house and into Maria's bedroom. She switched on the lights after closing the door behind them. The room was uncluttered. This was a stark contrast to its usual appearance. But Max had no way of knowing the difference. He had never seen Maria's room before. The bed was perfectly made up with a fresh sheet, bedspread and pillow cases. On top of these were sprinkles of red rose pedals.

"I'm not sure we should be doing this," Max softly confessed with a vague expression and a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Liz knew that these words were in conflict with what he wanted to do. His arousal for her, at that moment, was beyond him to conceal. She suspected that he was trying to protect her in some way from the difficulties to come by avoiding an added complication. Knowing this, she became determined to stop his logic processor from telling him what to do. Liz promptly stepped forward after hearing his words. She moved to within a little more than an inch away from Max and gently placed her hands on his chest before responding in a tone near to a whisper.

"No more waiting."

Max was not disinclined to this idea physically. At that moment he wanted to make love to Liz more than he had at any time in his past that he could remember. And he understood why this was so important to her at this moment. They both could be on the run for their lives in less than two weeks. But his mind told him that he should not allow this reasoning to be the deciding factor here. There was also the problem that his desire for her at that instant was exerting tremendous pressure to overrule the argument in his head that made him believe this was not wise. The fact that they could be on the run ten days into the future, and possibly for the rest of their lives, made him believe that the last thing they should do is have unprotected sex.

"Liz," Max began tentatively as he stared plaintively into her eyes. "I-I don't have any protection."

Liz continued to stare into Max's eyes as she gave this report a smile. Three seconds later she moved back to the head of the bed, reached under the pillow and pulled out four linked packets of condoms. Max gave them a brief study as they dangled down from between Liz's fingers. At the end of this, he rushed forward, grasped Liz's waist between his hands and lifted her up into a passionate kiss. She, in turn, threw her arms around his neck and answered his kiss with equal ferocity.

Nearly a minute later, this kiss became a series of frantic caresses. Their lips and their hands began exploring each other's body. Their clothes became impediments to this effort, and they quickly began to shed them with the help of the other. Halfway through this endeavor, they spilled onto the bed. They continued to kiss and caress for another few minutes and then they stopped. It was as if a sudden awareness had come to them both. For three seconds, they looked into each other's eyes with a furious intensity. At the end of this time, they removed the last article of clothing between them. An instant after completing this, Liz reached for the condoms that had fallen on the floor. She and Max then climbed up onto their knees in the center of the bed, facing each other. Liz tore open the top packet between her teeth and her fingers, and then she rolled its content about Max's member. This act alone nearly caused him to ejaculate. He pulled Liz into a frantic kiss. A second later, he began to push her backwards onto the bed. Liz reclined into this effort while kissing Max feverishly. A minute later he was in her. Five minutes after this, they had both reached their climax.

Exhausted, Liz and Max laid in bed, in each other's arms, panting away their exertion from just having made love. For more than a minute they said nothing as they enjoyed the intermingling of their bodies. At the end of this time their feelings found a voice. Max confessed his unrivaled love for Liz. And she reciprocated with the same. A minute later they started to gently kiss. Several minutes later this graduated into a frantic effort to satisfy their passion for one another. This expanded into lust, and quickly after doing so it grew to its full intensity. Shortly after that, he was in her again.

_Line Break_

"So, I'll see you tomorrow," Kenneth acknowledged hesitantly as he looked over to Isabel.

"Yeah," Isabel responded nervously. "I'm looking forward to it."

Isabel had just driven Kenneth back to his motel in her mother's car. The two of them sat awkwardly in the car smiling and blushing at one another. Neither of them knew what procedure they should observe here. They both understood that their group of fourteen was divided into couples. And they could feel the attraction they had for one another. The situation felt unusual and natural to them at the same time. Because of this, and the knowledge that they were meant for each other somehow, they made a date to meet again the next day.

They both knew instinctively that they would be seeing a lot of each other. Scheduling these meetings seemed almost absurd to them both. They both felt driven to be with one another and at that moment they desperately wanted to kiss. But it was the presumptuousness of it that caused Kenneth to balk at doing this. Despite his intimate knowledge of who she was, he did not feel it was right to assume that he could kiss her. After looking at each other for a long three seconds, Kenneth suddenly gave his, "goodnight," and climbed out of the car.

Isabel was surprised by his sudden departure. She feared, at first, that she had done something to drive him away. But as she watched him walk away with unsure steps, stopping to look back as if he did not want to leave and then turning away again, she concluded that he wanted to kiss her every bit as much as she wanted to kiss him.

"Wait," Isabel shouted a second after jumping out of the car.

Isabel then slammed the door behind her, hurried over to a startled Kenneth, threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately. Without hesitation, he reciprocated this feeling by squeezing her into the kiss. After holding this connection for thirty seconds, they separated and re-kissed half a dozen times more, in rapid succession. At the end of this, they slowly separated and moved a half step back. They stared into each other's eyes with a faint smile upon their faces. After five seconds of this, Kenneth spoke the only words that were in his mind at that moment.

"You want to come in?"

"I thought you'd never ask."


	54. Chapter 54 Suspicions, Concerns and

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 54: Suspicions, Concerns and Reservations

It was a quarter past twelve at night when Kyle parked his Mustang in the driveway of his home. After getting out of the car, he walked around to the front door of the house. The neighborhood was quiet. The lights inside the homes that lined the block were mostly off. He noted that his own house was one of the exceptions. The kitchen light was on, and there was a dim glow of light coming through the living-room windows. This was not a common event for this time of night, but it was not unusual either. He knew his father to stay up late occasionally. More often than not these late night vigils were held in his room, especially when he had no company to share this time with. It was his guess, however, that his father simply forgot to turn off the lights before falling asleep.

"You and Tess are keeping some late hours now, aren't you?" Jim Valenti questioned a second after his son walked through the front door.

"Yeah," Kyle answered hesitantly after closing the door behind him. "It was kind of a special occasion. It won't happen again."

Kyle promptly crossed the living-room and went into the kitchen, per his normal practice. A snack, and/or something to drink, was almost routine behavior for him upon his late night returns. He noted that his father did not have the television on when he entered, and he did not hear it on before. He guessed that his father turned it off when he parked his car. And he deduced from this that he wanted to talk.

Jim got up from the sofa chair he was sitting in and followed his son into the kitchen. He stepped just inside the doorway and watched as Kyle began to rummage through the refrigerator for something to eat. He had been waiting for Kyle to return. And over the course of this wait he had been plotting all that he would say.

"You and Tess are being careful?" Jim questioned delicately.

Kyle was slightly shocked by the question and looked up from the refrigerator to respond to it.

"What…? Yeah …We're careful. You don't have to worry about that."

"So, what was so special about today?" Jim asked, harking back to the word, special.

"Oh, Tess was just a little depressed," Kyle responded nonchalantly. "It was nothing really. I just wanted to be with her."

"Depressed about what?" Jim pushed for more.

Kyle had, by this time, produced a soda from the refrigerator and was chewing on a bite out of a cold slice of pizza. Before answering he took the time to close the refrigerator, turnabout and swallow his food.

"I think she was just a little under the weather, that's all."

"Oh." Jim reacted with a pondering look.

"So, how was your day?" Kyle quickly asked ahead of taking another bite out of the pizza slice.

"The same, I suppose," Jim deflected with barely a thought. "What did you and Tess do today?" He questioned an instant behind this.

"Wow Dad …you checking up on me?"

Jim was, indeed, checking up on his son. But more importantly he wanted to hear what answer Kyle would give to his questions. The meeting in the abandoned soap factory, between Kyle and the other thirteen teenagers, was already known to him. The Deputies under his command were actively watching the OSI agents who were watching these teenagers. Several reports on this event were called into him earlier that day.

"I'm just interested in how my son is spending his time," Jim defended with feigned sincerity. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, I suppose not. I'm just not used to all the questions," Kyle responded with a mild act of displeasure for the inquiry.

In reality, Kyle was not displeased. What was motivating him at this moment was defensiveness. He knew, as did the other members of The Fourteen, that his father's officers were watching the watchers. And he had no doubt that his father wanted to know what the meeting in the old soap factory was about. Kyle knew he had to put on a performance that would satisfy his father's curiosity.

"Then it's not because there's something you don't want to tell me?" Jim questioned with a suspicious stare.

"Like what?" Kyle reacted with a look of incredulity.

"I don't know. You tell me." Jim calmly responded while holding his stare.

"You know, Dad, I'm tired," Kyle began with feigned annoyance for this conversation. "I think I'm going to get into bed now."

Kyle walked over to the trash can and tossed the remainder of his slice of pizza. He then turned towards the doorway to the hall, and his father, with his soda in his hand. Before he could cross the distance, Jim queried him again.

"You still didn't tell me what you did today."

"I took Tess out to lunch," Kyle spoke with exasperation after stopping in the center of the kitchen. "And then we hung out at the park. Later on we went to her house. I had dinner with her and her dad. And then we hung out there, okay?"

Jim heard nothing of what he wanted to hear, and this caused him a small amount of anxiety. He shortly calmed himself enough to appear indifferent about his next question.

"Then that wasn't you and Tess in the old soap factory building today, with some other kids?"

"Yeah, Dad, a few of us did a little exploring in the old soap factory building," Kyle softly grumbled out with a feigned look of suspicion towards his father.

"Why didn't you tell me this in the beginning?" Jim softly questioned.

"Because I knew you wouldn't approve. What's wrong, Dad?" Kyle sharply responded in a defensive tone.

Jim ignored Kyle's question and quickly tossed back his own with a mildly sharp edge to his tone.

"Who were you with?"

"Is something wrong? Did we damage something?" Kyle challenged with a hint of anger.

"Who were the other kids?" Jim roared back forcefully.

"Just some friends from school…" Kyle hollered back with exasperation.

"Friends like Liz, Max and Isabel Evans, friends like that?" Jim interrogated.

"Yeah, Liz, Max and Isabel were there," Kyle confessed with a nod.

"So you and Liz are friends again?" Jim asked with an inquisitive inflection.

"I'm with Tess now," Kyle countered with a blank expression.

Jim had no real interest here. He had no doubt of Kyle's fidelity to Tess. He jumped from his last question to his next without the slightest hesitation.

"I'm guessing then, if Max Evans was there then that kid Michael Guerin was there too?"

"Yes, Dad, he was there too," Kyle confessed with a hint of resentment. "Is something wrong with that?"

"I just find this group strange," Jim responded with a curious inflection. "I mean, why weren't you with your buddies? Where were Scott, John and Gary?"

"Tess and Isabel are close," Kyle began to explain as though he was stating the obvious. "And we just hooked up with her and who she was with. I haven't abandoned my friends if that's what you're asking me."

Jim took a moment to seethe on this. He knew that this answer was reasonable. But he was convinced that it was not true. He knew that all the teenagers, and none other, who were in that factory, minus his son, were under the scrutiny of the OSI. And what he feared most at this moment was that this exception was a lie. After several seconds of mulling this over, he grumbled out a reply.

"I want you to stay away from Max and Isabel Evans. And I want you to stay away from that Michael Guerin kid …Liz and Maria … and anyone they associate with. Is that clear?"

Kyle briefly considered debating this with his father. But he did not want to be bothered with the pretense of acting like he did not know what this was all about. He knew this would all be irrelevant in ten days. And between that moment and then, he had no plans to be in the company of any of them. In the end, he decided it was simpler to acquiesce.

"Okay, Dad," Kyle agreed passively, after half a dozen seconds of considering the order.

Jim was a little surprised by this consent without question or debate. He knew his son could be stubborn when he felt unjustly put upon. Because of this, he took a few seconds to study Kyle for some tell of insincerity. He had his doubts about the truth of everything he was told before, but this felt genuine to him.

"So is that it?" Kyle questioned after five seconds of returning his father's stare.

Jim hesitated to answer and Kyle seized the moment to turn towards the kitchen doorway. An instant after he did this, Jim added another name to the list.

"And I want you to stay away from Tess."

Kyle froze where he stood the instant he heard this. After a second of thought, he turned back towards his father and gave him his stubborn face. He knew that this too was an irrelevant demand. But Kyle knew he would not surrender one minute to this order, let alone a day or a week. And he could not entertain the thought of lying to his father only to sneak around behind his back.

"I'm not doing that, Dad," Kyle, softly, defied with a shake of his head.

Jim knew that he had reached the last bridge on this march for the truth. And he feared that any attempt by him to cross it might end with unforeseen consequences. Just the same, he felt he had to try. Tess was the person he feared most in this. He knew that his son's attachment to her was strong. And that he would likely not give her up without cause of equal strength. The binding imposed upon him by the Governor precluded him from revealing the activity surrounding Tess. Because of this, he felt he had no other recourse but to stress the weight of his concern about their relationship.

"Listen to me, Son," Jim requested earnestly.

"It's not going to happen, Dad," Kyle reasserted an instant behind.

"This is important," Jim rifled back forcefully.

"Dad," Kyle shouted back while moving half a step towards his father.

Jim was shocked by the force of this reaction. He had never seen his son this defiant before. He paused momentarily to note his demeanor. Two seconds later, Kyle continued his remark in a softer tone.

"Whatever you're afraid is going to happen to me, is going to happen anyway. You can't fix it. And nothing I do, or don't do, is going to stop it."

Jim was taken aback by this declaration. He took a second to analyze it in his thoughts with a rumpled face of concentration. Kyle attempted to seize the opportunity this provided to walk away, but Jim quickly caught him by the arm.

"What aren't you telling me?" Jim gruffly demanded more than questioned.

Kyle preferred not to lie to his father and gave no response other than to return his father's stare. After the passage of two seconds, Jim rephrased his question without any lessoning of the tone.

"What have you gotten into?"

"Nothing, Dad," Kyle insisted without a hint of deception. "And neither has Tess."

Jim studied his son for another five seconds. Kyle stood still for this knowing that he had to satisfy his father's inquiry to end this. After the passage of this time, Jim spoke up in a soft and concerned tone of voice.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"Dad, there's nothing going on," Kyle replied earnestly and with a shake of his head.

Jim did not know what to take away from this. He could not be sure if his son was being honest with him, or simply playing a word game. He studied Kyle for a couple of seconds more before deciding to leave this bridge uncrossed. He elected, instead, to try a different route. Jim knew that the school year would be over in a couple of weeks. And he had, of late, been giving thought to the idea of a vacation away from home with Kyle before he started college. He figured this was as good a time as any to broach the subject. It was his hope that a separation from Tess would end their relationship, and/or keep his son free and clear from whatever was about to come down.

"I have some vacation time accumulated," Jim began hesitantly and in a gentle voice. "I thought we might spend some time together. …go away somewhere …just you and I …do some fishing …watch a few games from inside Rangers Ballpark. How does that sound?"

Kyle knew that this was never going to happen. But the answer he gave to his father was the most honest of any he had said.

"That sounds great, Dad. I'd like that. I would like that a lot."

_Line Break_

"Sir, we've identified the new member of the group," Ryan reported stoically. "The information is being put into the system as we speak."

General Pittman had been out of his bed for less than an hour when he got this call from Ryan. He immediately stopped what he was doing and went to the secure telephone in his study to take it.

"Is he number fourteen?" General Pittman rumbled into the phone.

"He's a match as far as we can tell," Ryan promptly answered back.

"Explain," General Pittman ordered an instant behind.

"His name is Kenneth Russell Burton. He just turned eighteen, and his birth certificate is fraudulent," Ryan reported in a matter of fact manner.

"So where has he been?" General Pittman questioned gruffly.

"Cedar Rapids, Iowa," Ryan returned promptly. "His parents moved out of Roswell when he was six, taking him with them. He's listed as a student at Jefferson High School in Cedar Rapids. And he ran away from home three days ago. He left a note promising his parents that he would return."

General Pittman paused to consider this. At the end of this time he spoke up with the question that he was pondering at that moment.

"So, why comeback now...? What does he want?"

"I don't know, Sir," Ryan responded in a bland voice. "But clearly, whatever it is, it's somewhere in, or near, Roswell."

Despite the unemotional tone of voice, General Pittman knew that Major Ryan was suggesting, once again, that the original thirteen were secretly communicating, and that they were aware that they were being watched. He knew that if something was drawing number fourteen to Roswell, then this could explain why the other thirteen have not left here. However, General Pittman preferred the simpler explanation that the, now, Roswell Fourteen were ignorant of all that was going on around them. He gave no credence to the idea that they had some undetectable means of communicating.

"You're over thinking this, Major," General Pittman retorted a second later. "They're probably all here for a powwow."

"With all due respect," Ryan quickly countered. "All of our intelligence is telling us that there has been no contact between the original thirteen and this new kid."

"Their aliens, Major," General Pittman rifled back. "They probably set this up several years back."

"Sir, I've been watching these aliens for almost a year now," Ryan began in an almost vehement tone of voice. "And the one thing that I have come to truly believe is that these aliens are kids. They're just a bunch of teenagers doing what teenagers do."

"Don't presume to know why they're here, Major," General Pittman retaliated vocally. "That's not your job."

Ryan took several seconds to restrain his emotions. After bringing himself back to a near calm, he responded to this with a question, rather than a reply.

"Sir, can I ask what's going to happen to these _aliens_ after they've been collected?"

General Pittman was not expecting this question. A yes sir was the report he was expecting to hear. The fact that he got a question instead angered him more than just a little. His response was heavily laced with this disposition.

"You may have gotten this ball rolling, Major. But don't make the mistake of thinking that I can't, or won't, pull you off of this operation. And make no mistakes about it, Major; the consequences of that act will have a severe effect on your career in the Air Force. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Sir," Ryan acquiesced.


	55. Chapter 55 Parents United

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 55: Parents United

It was a quarter past one in the afternoon when a plainclothes Deputy Sheriff's car, drove up to the home of Evans family and the driver walked up to the front door. Max and Isabel were out of the house. Diane answered the doorbell. The Deputy at the door politely asked if he was talking to Diane Evans and then promptly gave her an envelope when she said yes. He then turned about and left as quickly as he arrived.

Diane noted that the envelope was addressed only with their names, Mr. and Mrs. Evans. She quickly brought it to the attention of Phillip. And he opened it straightaway. The letter was brief and direct. It was a request for a meeting, at three PM that day, in the office of the Sheriff of Chaves County. It was signed by Jim Valenti. The letter gave no indication of what the meeting would be about. And it was in no way insistent. The request was polite. It suggested that they both attend. And it promised that the meeting would be brief.

The immediate suspicion of Phillip and Diane was that it had something to do with Max. They needed no more motivation than this to attend this meeting. However, they would have done so regardless of this impetus. They had no reason to want to offend the Chaves County Sheriff. And the very fact that he requested their presence was enough to pique their curiosity. An hour and a half later they were readied for the meet with Jim Valenti. They left a note on the refrigerator in case Max and Isabel came home before their return. And then they left their home for the city's center.

Diane and Phillip approached the outer office of the County Sheriff of Chaves County with two minutes to spare. They identified themselves to the Deputy behind the desk there and she directed them into Valenti's office without the slightest hesitation. Once inside they found Jim standing behind his desk encouraging them to have a seat. This was as they expected. What they noticed an instant behind this was just a bit of a surprise. Sitting in two of the four chairs in front of Sheriff Valenti's desk were Jeff and Nancy Parker. If the Evans had to guess who else might be at this meeting, the Parkers would have been at the top of this list. But they were still surprised that Jim had brought them together for a meeting. In past situations it was the presence of both their children that necessitated that they be in the same place at roughly the same time. From what they could tell from the invite, there was nothing like that in this meeting.

The Parkers were equally surprised by the presence of Diane and Phillip. They had only arrived a minute earlier and were told nothing about why they were there. But they were advised that the Evans were coming. This explained the two pair of chairs separated by a small end table. Despite this forewarning, they were still a little mystified by the need for their presence. They both gave the Evans a short, stern, look and then they turned their attentions back to Sheriff Valenti. Immediately after the Evans took their seats in the second pair of chairs Jim began the explanation that both, pair of, parents were eager to hear.

"I'm sorry to disrupt your Sunday afternoons."

"What has their son gotten my daughter into now?" Jeff interrupted angrily.

Diane was eager to respond to this, but Jim beat her to it.

"Your children haven't done anything …at least, nothing that I know of."

The Parkers and the Evans turned their attentions back to Jim and resigned themselves to wait on the rest of this explanation.

"I have a rather delicate situation that I need your help with," Jim continued tactfully.

"Our help," Phillip quickly retorted. "What's this about Sheriff Valenti?"

"That's the delicate part," Jim answered with a wave of his hand. "I can't tell you that."

Jim was under strict orders from the Governor to not interfere with the surveillance operation that the OSI was conducting in his city. His greatest concern at this moment was that the Parkers, or the Evans, or both, would go public with what they learned here. This, he had little doubt, would bring about severe consequences to him. Despite this fear, his conversation with his son during the night just past put him in a desperate need for answers.

"I need to know what, if any, contact you may have had with the Air Force or the Federal Government," Jim queried after a pause.

"The Air Force passed on filing any charges," Phillip quickly reported. "That issue is dead and buried."

"Have you had any other contact, regarding anything, since then?" Jim quickly questioned back.

"I don't understand this," Jeff announced vociferously. "What's going on?"

Jim noted that the Parkers and the Evans were looking at him as if he had gone mad. He knew, at that moment, he would have to give them something if he was to get anything in return. He formulated his next sentence carefully and expressed it with equal deference.

"The Air Force has been conducting an investigation within Roswell and I'm trying to find out what's behind it."

"Who are they investigating?" Jeff questioned with a confused expression.

"I can't tell you that," Jim responded to Jeff with a look his way.

"Can they do that?" Nancy questioned with a perplexed expression. "I mean Roswell isn't Air Force property."

"They can if the offense involves Air Force property or personnel," Jim countered candidly.

"Why don't you just ask them?" Diane questioned with a curious inflection.

"I have," Jim answered with a brief palm up turn of his hands. "They're not talking to me. This is why I'm talking to you."

"So, you think they might be investigating our children?" Nancy questioned with a stern expression.

"Your children are the only individuals I know who have had a run in with the Air Force," Jim explained with a shake of his head.

"I don't buy that, Sheriff Valenti," Phillip countered with a stern look. "There's something more to this … something that you're not telling us."

"You're right," Jim responded with a look and a quick nod. "And I can't tell you anymore than this."

"So, that's what this is all about. You want to know if we've been in contact with the Air Force for any reason" Jeff questioned gruffly. "Well the answer to your question is no. I can't speak for them, but we haven't had any communication with anyone, on any level, in the Federal Government."

Jim accepted this answer stoically and watched as Jeff stood up to leave. Nancy got up from her seat a second behind him.

"We haven't either," Diane quickly reported.

After a pause, Diane stood up with the expectation that she would be following the Parkers to the door. Philip, however, did not move and continued to hold his stare on Jim. Diane, Nancy and Jeff took notice of this a second later and became intrigued by it. They paused from their exit to see if the meeting was over. At the end of this wait, Phillip asked Jim a question in a very direct tone.

"Are they investigating our children?"

Jim gave no response other than to sit back in his chair and return Phillip's stare. The full attentions of Jeff, Nancy and Diane turned back towards Jim. His hesitation was all Nancy needed to become fully invested in this discussion again.

"Why would they be investigating our children?" Nancy questioned with a startled look.

Jim continued to study Phillip as he pondered what he should say next.

"Can't the Mayor or the Governor tell you what's going on?" Jeff questioned in an annoyed voice.

"I've tried that," Jim quickly returned with a pensive look to Jeff. "I'm under strict orders from the Governor to stay out of it."

"Stay out of what?" Diane challenged with a hint of desperation and a quick return to her seat.

"I've already told you too much," Jim responded after a pause.

The four parents looked at Jim with stunned expression. All thoughts of leaving were gone. They were all desperate to learn what was not being said. After several seconds, Phillip announced what had surmised from all that he heard.

"You're afraid that we'll go public with this."

A look of alarm instantly took shape on Jim's face. He sat forward in his chair, just as quickly, and stared directly into Phillip's eyes. And then he spoke, gruffly.

"I cannot do anything that interferes with this investigation. My hands are tied."

Jeff and Nancy quickly retook their seats with confused expressions on their faces. No sooner had they done this did Phillip fire back with a question.

"Then why risk it? Why bring us here and alert us to this phantom investigation?"

"Because it's not just your kids," Jim grumbled back.

The Parkers and the Evans were stunned into silence. They said nothing as they watched Jim sit back in his chair with a look of resignation. Two seconds later Jim added a confession to his last remark.

"I think they might be watching my son too and I don't know why."

The Parkers and Evans suddenly understood the motivation here. Jim Valenti was not acting as the County Sheriff. He was acting as a parent. After three seconds of stunned silence, Nancy annunciated her confusion.

"Why would they be investigating Kyle? He wasn't with Liz and Max that day."

Jim knew that he had already said too much and that he was, as of then, in for a pound. He hesitated only long enough to come to that realization, and then he answered Nancy's question.

"It's not just your kids and mine that they're watching," Jim confessed with a solemn expression. "They're following at least a dozen kids …all high school seniors. Some are students at Roswell High. The others go to Goddard and University. …Your daughter Isabel included."

"What?" Diane almost shouted.

"Wait," Jeff spoke up with an inflection of incredulity. "How can you know this is about our kids? There are more than a hundred students in those schools."

Jim looked down at his desktop, took a deep breath and paused long enough to recollect what he was about to say. At the end of this he looked up into the faces of the Parkers and the Evans and began his explanation.

"The Saturday before last, two of my Deputies followed some of these OSI agents to the old soap factory building on the edge of town," Jim began solemnly. "When they got there they said there were at least half a dozen agents staking out that building with cameras that had telescopic lenses and long range microphones. Inside the building was at least a dozen teenagers …your children …and my son were among the twelve."

"Liz?" Nancy called out with a shocked expression. "You're saying Liz was there."

"That can't be right," Diane spoke up at almost the same instant with a look of astonishment. "Isabel would never go into a place like that."

Jim pulled open a side drawer of his desk and pulled out a picture that showed Max in his jeep, with Liz, Isabel and Kenneth, leaving the premises of the abandoned soap factory.

"There's no mistake," Jim replied softly as he laid the picture on his desk.

Diane and Nancy almost raced to pick it up. All four parents examined the picture as it quickly moved back and forth between their hands. After nearly a minute of this, they all looked back to Jim with a new respect for his intelligence.

"I don't know why," Jim continued with vociferous frustration. "But they're tracking their movements. They're photographing them. Hell, as far as I know, they could be listening to their conversations. I need to know what you know about your children's activities, where they go, who they see, what they do."

"Isabel and Max are good kids," Diane insisted fervently.

"So is Liz," Nancy followed behind with equal fervor.

"There has to be a mistake," Diane tagged on behind Nancy's assertion.

"I've been telling myself that for weeks now," Jim reported solemnly.

"How long has this been going on?" Jeff questioned suspiciously.

"As far as I can tell," Jim answered with a brief shake of his head. "…since the start of this school year."

"That's a pretty long investigation," Phillip pondered out to no one in particular.

"Too long," Jim supported as he stared at the top of his desk. "And it's not an investigation. It's a surveillance operation."

"Surveillance…?" Jeff questioned with a stern look. "You think they have cameras and bugs in our homes?"

"I doubt they've bugged your homes," Jim responded softly. "My deputies tell me that they haven't gone beyond what they're legally allowed to do."

"And what does that mean?" Jeff questioned angrily.

"They've been using city maintenance vehicles to attach cameras on street lamps and telephone poles outside your homes and on every intersection around your houses for half a mile. Your homes are under twenty-four hour surveillance. Your children are being watched every time they leave the house."

"And this is legal?" Jeff roared in frustration.

Jim gave no response to this. He knew that Jeff was simply blowing off steam. He knew that the Evans and Parkers would come to their own decisions and he waited for them to express it.

"Sheriff Valenti, what are you doing…?" Diane began in a voice laced with worry.

"Jim," Sheriff Valenti quickly corrected. "I'm not acting as an officer of the law right now. I'm a father worried about his son. Please call me Jim."

"Jim," Diane continued. "What are you doing about this?"

"There is nothing I can do until I know what's going on," Jim answered in a defeated voice.

Jim paused for three seconds to note the concerned faces staring back at him. At the end of this he relented to their worries and gave them all he had.

"Look, last Tuesday, I called someone I know. He's a federal agent," Jim began with a hint of reluctance. "He works in Washington, and he's in a position to …see things."

Jim paused for a moment to gather his fortitude to finish what he decided to say.

"He told me that something big is happening here, but he doesn't know what," Jim continued. "He did promise to get back to me when he had something he could tell me."

"And how long is that going to take?" Jeff questioned with a heavy inflection of frustration.

"He promised to get back to me, one way or the other, by the end of the month," Jim quickly confessed.

"And you believe this person is going to tell you what this is all about," Phillip asked at a measured pace.

"He will get back to me," Jim answered with a look to Phillip. "What he finds out, and what he's prepared to say, I can't guarantee."

"Phillip," Diane called out in a voice laced with fear.

Jeff and Nancy followed her lead and turned their attentions to Phillip. Jim held his look on Phillip as he held his stare on him. After the passing of a couple of seconds Phillip acted on Diane's concern.

"You took a big gamble telling us this," Phillip acknowledged with a nod to Jim.

"Kyle's my son," Jim retorted in a soft stern voice.

Phillip took two more seconds to continue with his cross stare with Jim before speaking again.

"I can't help my children if I don't know what to protect them from," Phillip insisted in a grave tone.

"I know," Jim acknowledged softly without deviating from his stare.

Phillip paused again as he held his stare. At the end of this time he spoke again in a solemn tone.

"So, going public with this would probably generate some negative repercussions for you," Phillip announced in a suggestive tone.

"Probably," Jim answered softly.

"And I suppose warning our children about this surveillance would have the same effect," Phillip carefully annunciated, once again, in a suggestive tone.

"That would be my guess," Jim concurred softly.

Phillip took a moment to ponder this and then spoke his determination in a non-suggestive tone.

"If I'm going to sit on this until the end of the month, then I'm going to need something from you."

Jim said nothing as he waited on the terms of his silence. Three seconds later Phillip spoke the words in a firm voice.

"I'm going to need to know everything you know," Phillip declared with a stare. "And I'm going to want it as soon as you know it."

Jim paused, more for effect than thought, and then gave Phillip an answer to his request.

"Done," Jim agreed in a soft tone. "But I'm going to need that to work both ways."

"Okay," Phillip agreed.

A second later Jim turned his attention to Jeff.

"Is that okay with you?" Jim questioned Jeff with an earnest look.

Jeff took a moment to ponder this request before responding with an, "okay …I'll play ball …until the end of the month."

A second later, the Evans, followed by the Parkers, got up onto their feet. Jim promptly got to his feet as well. Phillip reached across the desk and offered Jim his hand. Jim hesitated for just an instant before taking it. The two them shook hands. Jeff promptly followed Phillip's lead and shook Jim's hand too.

"This is all probably one great big mistake that's going to blow over just as soon as they figure that out," Jim declared to all present.

"I hope you're right," Phillip responded with a nod.

Jim then escorted them all to the door and bade them all a good afternoon.


	56. Chapter 56 The Night Before

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 56: The Night Before

It was a quarter past eleven in the morning, Wednesday, when the U.S. Air Force transport plane carrying Major General William Pittman touched down at Holloman Air Force Base. The General, and his entourage of lesser officers, were driven from the aircraft to a hangar bustling with activity. But there were no aircrafts being attended to inside this hangar. Instead, the large space was being transformed into a command and control center. The General perused the activity going on inside the hanger with the look of a person who did not like waiting and was capable of cruelty when disappointed. As the ranking officer, all there were obliged to pay homage to the General. This they did with a sharp salute whenever he came within speaking distance. It took him little more than five minutes to visually inspect all quarters of the hangar and, more importantly, ingrain his presence in the awareness of all there. At the end of this time, he was taken to the room that would serve as his office for the duration of his stay in New Mexico.

Shortly after six that evening, General Pittman received a video call from Secretary of Defense Patrick Drenning. The communication came in on the large screen in the hangar. The call was expected. Waiting on its arrival with General Pittman was his staff of junior officers.

"Mr. Secretary…" General Pittman acknowledged from a stance near to an attention.

"General, are we set for tomorrow?" Secretary of Defense Drenning casually queried from a seated position.

"Operation Commencement is in place, Mr. Secretary," General Pittman reported with a confident nod.

"Explain it to me," Secretary Drenning requested without hesitation and from behind a sober stare.

In response to this request, General Pittman, promptly, clasped his hands behind his back and widened his stance in preparation for his delivery.

"At five A.M. tomorrow, local time," he asserted in a strong and confident voice. "We will approach the homes of the Roswell Fourteen and collect them and their parents. From there we will transport them directly to Holloman."

"Why tomorrow?" Secretary Drenning questioned tersely.

"Today was the last day of public school in Roswell, Mr. Secretary," General Pittman began to explain without hesitation. "Graduation ceremonies are the only events left undone for this school year. I thought it best to collect them in between these two events."

"Wouldn't it be better to wait until after the graduation ceremonies?" Secretary Drenning asked from behind a fixed stare and a stern expression.

"The graduation ceremonies for the three high-school senior classes are spread out over the next three days," General Pittman continued to explain with confidence. "We don't want to risk one or more of the packages leaving the area in the interim between these dates. And taking them in segments will alert them that we're coming. By doing it tomorrow we maximize our chances of taking them all simultaneously."

General Pittman felt more than a little pleased at this moment. The Secretary of Defense asked a questioned that he was not only prepared to answer, but was eager to explain.

"Understood…" Secretary Drenning acknowledge after a second of reflection. "The arrests, what will they look like?" He questioned an instant behind with a, seemingly, prepared delivery.

"Minimum profile…" General Pittman puffed up to announce with a rapid address. "We will be going in with three vehicles and two agents per vehicle. …no emergency lights or sirens. Backup agents will be nearby, but off site. Weapons will remain holstered unless cause is given to do otherwise. The objective is to make this happen as quickly and quietly as possible. In and out time is estimated at between twenty and thirty minutes."

"Is this going to be quick and quiet?" Secretary Drenning questioned directly.

"Yes, it will be," General Pittman reported with a nod of his head.

Secretary Drenning paused to study the image of General Pittman on his screen. At the end of this he gave his closing remark with the barest of smiles.

"I'm looking forward to hearing from you tomorrow, General Pittman."

General Pittman responded with a much more obvious smile.

"I'm looking forward to making the call, Mr. Secretary."

_Line Break_

Phillip and Diane Evans spent the ten days following their talk with Jim Valenti giving careful attention to everything that Max and Isabel said and did. Before they left the house, they questioned them about their plans. When they returned, they questioned them about their day. Without even planning to do so, they took to searching their rooms and listening to their talks. For the whole of this time, Phillip and Diane were perpetually ill at ease with worry for their children. This feeling was reinforced by the multiple sightings of vehicles, with unknown occupants inside, passing repeatedly through their community, or parked nearby on a major thoroughfare. By the end of this time, Phillip and Diane were convinced that their children were being watched.

Despite this belief, Phillip and Diane were reluctant to say anything that might alert Max and Isabel of their fears. Their concern here was that this act would catapult this secret surveillance into a public event. And they were reluctant to take issue with this ahead of their promise to hold off until the end of the month. Instead, they repeatedly warned Max and Isabel to be good and safe, and sent them out the door with the hope that all would be well until their return.

Max and Isabel were not oblivious to their parents change in behavior. But they chose not to call them on it. They suspected that they had been advised of the surveillance going on around them. And they thought the likely suspect in this was Sheriff Valenti. Kyle had informed them of the conversation he had with his father. This was the only explanation that made sense of their new curiosity in their activities outside of the home. What they did find confusing was the fact that their parents did not openly discuss it with them, or confront the Air Force about it. They considered reading their thoughts on several occasions. But their reluctance to push their parent's thoughts towards what they wanted them to think about stopped them each time.

Over these same ten days, Max and Isabel feigned disinterest in what was happening with their parents, while they, in turn, feigned over interest in all aspects of their lives. But this all changed on the last day of school. Sheriff Valenti received a call, on this day, from his source within the FBI. He was advised by same that something was set to occur in Roswell, within the next day or two, and that he had no details beyond this. Sheriff Valenti, per his promise, passed this information on to the Evans and the Parkers. Worried by this information, even more than they had been, Phillip and Diane waited until after dinner to push their children for answers.

"Max, Isabel, is there anything you need to tell us?" Phillip questioned his son and daughter moments after he and Diane situated them both on the living-room sofa.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Diane almost pleaded.

Max and Isabel were both loathed to entertain this conversation. They could think of no way through this talk other than to lie or tell the truth. The latter was something the felt they dared not do.

"What do you mean?" Max questioned with a confused look.

After hearing this reply, Phillip came to the conclusion that he would have to give his children some inkling of what he was talking about to steer their responses into the area of interest to them.

"For the past several months, there has been a criminal investigation going on in all of the high schools here in Roswell," Phillip stated with resolution.

"You think we're in some kind of trouble with the police?" Isabel, softly, questioned with a feigned look of shock.

"No, baby," Diane quickly responded with a sincere expression. "We just want to make sure you don't get caught up in to something by accident. You're our children and there is nothing that you could do that would stop us from loving you and protecting you."

Max and Isabel knew at that moment that they could not go on deceiving their parents with their pretense of ignorance. They glanced abashedly at each other in response to their mother's heartfelt declaration. After two seconds of indecision, Max was first to take ownership of the response.

"Mom, Dad, we're okay," Max began with a sincere tone. "You don't have to worry about us. We haven't done anything," he finished with a definitive emphasis.

"We're your children," Isabel spoke up, an instant behind, in support of Max's words. "You raised us to be good, and kind, and respectful. We will always be your children," she emphasized with an almost pleading expression to her words. "We would never do anything that might embarrass or hurt you."

"We would never betray your confidence in us," Max declared with a fervent stare towards his father. "You know us. I don't care what anybody else says. Please believe that we are the children that you raised."

Both Phillip and Diane were stunned into silence by this impassioned declaration. They looked at their children with confused expression. Phillip, more so than Diane, felt that there had to be something behind this emotional response. After three seconds of study, he put this suspicion into a question.

"Is there something wrong? Did something happen?"

"We didn't do anything, Dad," Isabel, loudly and quickly, asserted. "Please just trust us on this."

"I can't help if I don't know what I'm dealing with," Phillip stated with an inflection of concern.

"There's nothing for you to do, Dad," Max declared in an earnest tone. "We haven't done anything that we need you to protect us from. That's the truth, Dad," he emphasized with a gentle shake of his head.

Phillip and Diane could not help but believe that their children were telling them some version of the truth. It was the tone of their words and the passion behind them that was causing them to believe that they were holding something back. They both paused to study their children. Neither of them could see any sign that they were lying. Phillip was the first to conclude that there was nothing left to do but trust them. He had never known his children to be dishonest and he was not going to start accusing them of being so at that moment.

"Okay," Phillip acknowledged with a nod of his head.

After taking a second to note that their parents had finished with their inquiry, Max and Isabel got up from the sofa and went to their rooms. Phillip and Diane sat in their sofa chairs and waited for their doors to close before speaking to each other about what they had just heard.

"They're not telling us something," Diane nearly whispered to Phillip.

"I know," Phillip agreed in an equally soft voice. "But they're not lying either."

_Line Break_

In the Parker home, and in the Valenti home, similar conversations were going on that night. Liz found it hard to say anything in the face of what she knew was about to occur. Her thoughts were too full of concern for her parents to perform a deception with any elaboration. For the most part, she limited her responses to "no" and "I don't know" from behind expressions of sadness and fear. Often, in between these two answers were long moments of nothing at all. This behavior continuously elevated her father's passion which produced increasingly more vociferous demands for answers. But in the end it was the opposite effect on her mother that brought the event to close. Nancy became convinced that they were going to get nothing more than what they had heard and she convinced her husband that they could do nothing more than trust in the word of their daughter.

Kyle was more vocal in response to his father's queries. And Jim was more giving with regards to what he knew. He advised his son that forces were being arrayed and that several of his friends were the reasons behind their assembly. He questioned his son repeatedly about what he knew about this. Kyle answered to these inquiries with the lie that he knew of nothing that anyone was doing to warrant a response from the Law Enforcement. In the end, Jim accepted this answer, reluctantly.

"I pray for you sake that you're not a part of this," Jim exclaimed before turning to go to bed.

Jim had taken three steps when he was stopped by Kyle's call back, "Dad." He turned about and faced his son with a look that suggested he was not expecting anything different from what he had already heard. He noticed Kyle's hesitation, and suspected he was formulating the words in his thoughts. He became slightly more intrigued by the sight of this. He waited on this process for two seconds, and then he listened to the words it produced.

"All I ever wanted to be was a son you could be proud of," Kyle enunciated in solemn voice. "And I have never done anything that was in conflict with that. I just want you to know that."

Jim looked at his son with a sudden awareness that he knew something that he was not saying. He studied him for a dozen seconds before resigning himself to the realization that he was not going to get more than this. He then turned about and set off for his room with the knowledge that he had no recourse but to address events as they came. Within an hour past ten o'clock that night he was asleep in his bed. Within two hours past ten o'clock all of the parental members of the Roswell Fourteen were asleep in their beds. But their children were not.


	57. Chapter 57 Best Laid Plans

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 57: Best Laid Plans

Diane was only partially asleep when she heard the front doorbell ring. As she propped her head and shoulders up to see what the time was, she noted the dim blue light of a pre sunrise sky glowing through and around the curtains in front of the window. The time was five o'clock to the minute. The doorbell rang again. Phillip rolled over onto his back in response to the second ring. He paused a moment to gather his wits and the doorbell rang again.

"Somebody is at the front door," Diane reported after sitting up on the side of the bed.

Phillip looked to the clock on the nightstand for the time, and then the doorbell rang twice again.

"I'll get it," Phillip declared after noting the time.

Phillip got out of bed and began attiring himself in his robe and slippers.

"Who could be ringing our doorbell at this time?" Diane questioned as she stood up and reached for her robe.

"We'll soon find out," Phillip announced with a hint of irritation.

Phillip was still fastening his robe about him when he stormed out of the bedroom and started for the front door. It was an hour away from his wakeup time, and Phillip was not pleased with the loss of sleep. He could not imagine anything important enough for someone to be ringing his doorbell at this hour. His suspicion told him that it had to be someone he did not know or, at the most, he barely knew. Anyone else he trusted to have the sense to contact them by a phone call first. By the time he reached the front door, Diane was in her slippers and robe, and standing just inside the living-room.

"Who is it?" Diane asked as Phillip looked through the window built into the door.

Phillip gave no reply to this. He was too busy being confused by the sight of the two men standing outside his front door. Both men were attired in blue jackets with the emblem of the Department of Homeland Security emblazoned on them. His immediate thought was that there was a terrorism scare in the community. An instant later, a foreboding suggested an alternate possibility. The earpieces that the two men were wearing suggested to him that they were connected, by two way radio, to someone else. Phillip gave Diane a glance of apprehension and then he turned the knob and opened the door.

"Phillip Evans?" The tall man standing first in front of the doorway questioned.

"Yes," Phillip answered with a suspicious study of the stranger in front of him.

"I'm Agent Devon Plank," the tall man announced as he displayed his Homeland Security credential in front of him. "This is Agent Vincent Gummersall," he added with a nod to the second man behind.

Agent Gummersall raised his credential up and extended it forward for Phillip to see. Phillip took his time examining what looked to be authentic Homeland Security identifications. After a dozen seconds he turned his gaze up onto the face of Agent Plank and then asked the question that he was, at that moment, loathed to hear the answer to.

"What's this about?" Phillip questioned dryly.

"May we come in?" Agent Plank questioned back with a bland delivery.

Phillip took a moment to give Agent Plank a look of annoyance before stepping back two feet from the doorway. Agent Plank stepped across the threshold a second later and stopped directly in front of him, brandishing a blank stare. It took Phillip two seconds to pick up the hint that he was expected to lead the way into the interior of the house. He walked back into the center of the living-room with Agent Plank two steps behind. Agent Gummersall partially shut the front door and stood guard in front of it.

"What's going on?" Diane asked as she stepped up next to Phillip.

Agent Plank gave no indication that he heard the question. He was already retrieving a document from the inside pocket of his suit jacket when she spoke her question.

"Mr. and Mrs. Evans, my orders are to collect the both of you and your son, Maxwell Spencer Evans," Agent Plank reported after reading the name off the document. "...And your daughter, Isabel Gloria Evans..."

"What?" Diane almost shouted.

Agent extended the document as Diane spoke. Phillip snatched it up and began reading it without a wasted instant.

"Presidential Emergency Powers…!" Phillip read aloud at close to a shout.

"Please ready yourselves and your children to come with us," Agent Plank advised in a calm voice.

"Are you arresting us?" Diane questioned with an almost hysterical tone to her voice.

"Why?" Phillip bellowed an instant behind Diane. "This doesn't even specify what crime we're supposed to have committed," he asserted as he flagged the document at Agent Plank.

"That's not my department, Sir," Agent Plank countered with indifference. "My job is to execute the order."

"Presidential Prerogative has no weight without a national emergency," Phillip grumbled as he returned to studying the document, "and even then it's debatable. You have no right."

"If you don't produce your children, Sir, we will be forced to take them out of their beds." Agent Plank responded with a monotone delivery.

Even as he spoke these words, Agent Gummersall was already half way out the front door, signaling for more agents to come in. Phillip continued to confront Agent Plank with a stare of defiance.

"They're just teenagers," Diane insisted vehemently. "What could they have done? They're seventeen years old."

A second after she said this, Agent Gummersall lead two more agents into the house. Diane immediately moved to block their way.

"You can't do this," Diane insisted.

Agent Gummersall used his body to block Diane from obstructing the movements of the two new agents.

"Check the bedrooms," Agent Gummersall directed with a point as Diane continued to insist that they could not come into her home.

Phillip looked up from his stare with Agent Plank when the two new agents entered the house. At that instant, he began insisting that he and Diane would get their kids. Agent Plank used his body to block him away from the path of the two new agents.

"Sir, I need you to step aside. I need you step aside, Sir," Agent Plank instructed as he did this.

The two new agents entered the house and hurried past this commotion without hesitation. It took them little better than four seconds; from the moment they entered the house, to reach the two bedrooms with closed doors. They quickly opened the doors and went into the rooms. Phillip and Diane suspended their objections and began listening to the sounds coming from their children's rooms. To their surprise, there was no talk coming from either one. The only thing they did hear was the footfalls of the two agents. Five seconds later, both agents hurried back into the hall outside of the bedrooms and looked to Agents Plank and Gummersall with confused expressions.

"The room is empty," the first agent reported.

"There's no one in here either," the second agent called out an instant behind.

A perplexed expression instantly formed on Agent Plank's face as he paused for a second to consider this report. At the end of this time he yelled out to the two new agents to search the house. He then turned his attention onto Phillip and Diane.

"Where are your children?" Agent Plank questioned with a stern look.

"What the hell is going on here?" Phillip yelled back with a furious expression.

"This is our home," Diane yelled with greater fury. "How dare you come in here and ransack our house."

As this was going on, the two new agents were quickly searching through the bathrooms, closets, the garage and any compartment large enough to conceal a person. Agent Plank suddenly noted that the confrontation between him and the parents was close to becoming physical. This was the antithesis of his orders. He quickly backed off from his stern stance and appealed to Phillip and Diane to have a seat. When they refused, he advised them, politely, that he would have no recourse but to physically restrain them if they did not. Phillip and Diane shortly complied with the request after taking a moment to seethe about having to do so.

"Mr. and Mrs. Evans, I need you to tell me where your children are hiding," Agent Plank entreated in a soothing tone.

Phillip and Diane had no idea where Max and Isabel were. However, at that moment, they were not inclined to give any indication of this to the DHS Agents in front of them. They sat with angry scowls as they listened to the two new agents rummage through their home. After a minute of this, the first new agent hurried into the living-room.

"They're not in the house," the agent reported with an urgent inflection.

"They have to be," Agent Plank insisted. "Keep searching. Check the attic. Look for crawl spaces."

"They're not here," the new agent insisted with greater urgency.

"They have to be here," Agent plank insisted with a scowl. "They couldn't have gotten out."

"The longer we delay, the more distance they put between us," the new agent spoke soberly. "They're not here," he finalized with emphasis on each word.

Agent Plank's expression took on a whole new level of confused. After giving two seconds to indecision, Agent Plank pressed his left hand against his earpiece and brought his right hand up to his face. An instant after this, he began speaking into the microphone attached to the inside of the cuff of his jacket.

"The packages have fled the house and may be somewhere in the vicinity. I repeat the packages are not secured. Patrol the area, quietly, and report any sightings."

Agent Plank then looked at Phillip and Diane with a bewildered expression. They returned the look in kind. Three seconds into this, Agent Gummersall spoke up with his advice.

"We need to call this in."

Agent Plank took a moment to give Agent Gummersall a look of frustration and then he reached into his inside jacket pocket and retrieved his cell phone.

_Line Break_

"Major, report," General Pittman gruffly barked at the image of Major Ryan on the large video screen in front of him.

For the past hour General Pittman had been in his command and control center taking reports on the readiness of Operation Commencement. It was then a quarter past five, Thursday morning, when Major Ryan called in to give, what General Pittman expected to be a report that all fourteen teenagers had been collected and were on their way to Holloman. A second after he commanded Major Ryan to speak he started hearing a completely different outcome.

"Sir, I'm getting reports that several of the packages are missing," Ryan reported with a hint of alarm.

"Missing?" General Pittman bellowed back. "What do you mean, missing?"

Ryan, momentarily, looked off screen towards someone who was speaking to him. He turned back towards the camera two seconds later and responded to the General's question.

"I'm getting more reports that the packages are not where we expected them to be."

"Then where are they?" General Pittman demanded more than questioned.

"We don't know that yet," Ryan answered in a matter of fact manner.

"Then how many did we get?" General Pittman growled back. "Tell me that."

Ryan discerned from this question that General Pittman did not understand the full extent of what was happening on his end. He paused only long enough to compose his features into a harsh expression directed directly into the camera. And then he responded to the question.

"General Pittman," Ryan began to explain in a stern voice. "So far I have no reports that any of the Roswell Fourteen have been collected."

"I thought you had them under surveillance," General Pittman hollered at the image of Ryan.

As General Pittman was speaking this, Ryan was, once again, being distracted by something going on off screen.

"Major Ryan, explain this," General Pittman demanded three seconds later.

Ryan was not unnerved by General Pittman's fury. In fact, his barking was having the reverse effect. He stiffened in the face of the General's bluster and responded five seconds later with more bad news.

"General," Ryan responded gruffly with a sudden turn towards the screen. "I now have reports from all of our teams. All fourteen of the packages are missing. The parents are in the home, but the primary targets are nowhere to be found inside."

General Pittman paused to take this in. A stunned look dominated his expression as he examined the space between him and the floor. Three seconds later Ryan spoke into this silence.

"We have to assume that they knew we were coming for them. That's the only explanation that makes sense," Ryan asserted strongly. "We have to get the locals in on this, Sir. We have no way of knowing how long they've been gone. They could be out of the state by now."

"No," General Pittman blurted out with a sudden awakening. "We need to keep this in-house," he roared back at Ryan.

General Pittman paused for two seconds to ponder the situation before barking more orders at Ryan.

"Bring the parents to Holloman," General Pittman grumbled as if he continued to ponder the situation. "And find out how the hell they got past you," he finished with a holler.

"Yes Sir, General," Ryan answered back with a hint of discourtesy.


	58. Chapter 58 The First Step

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 58: The First Step

Max and Isabel spent the better part of an hour monitoring the thoughts of their parents while sitting on their beds, in their rooms. It was half past twelve, Wednesday night, when they noted, finally, that their parents were thoroughly adrift in sleep. It was then that they began to make preparations for their exits from their home. They quietly dressed themselves in the clothes they laid out the previous evening. They loaded their backpacks with a small assortment of clothing from their rooms, food and water from the kitchen and medicinal aids from the bathroom. They then affixed the bundle to their backs and came together in the living-room. They looked at one another with the knowledge that they were about to leave, forever, the only home they had ever known. After pausing for a moment to acknowledge this big step, they turned their thoughts onto their surroundings.

Max and Isabel extended their minds out nearly half a mile in all directions. This was far more area than they needed. They had learned over the months that the agents who watched their home at night were never more than two hundred yards away. This was true despite the fact that the maximum distance that the surveillance camera's signal could reach was nearly a mile. But this was at the extreme end of its range. Max and Isabel understood that the two-hundred yards was a necessity created by the array of wireless surveillance cameras situated throughout the neighborhood, around their home. The receiver had to be in the vicinity of the center of this cluster to be close enough to connect with all of the cameras. This kept the agents within two hundred yards of the homes of the Roswell Fourteen. And two hundred yards was well within the reach of any single member of the Roswell Fourteen.

It took fifteen seconds for Max's and Isabel's minds to feel their way to the two agents sitting quietly in the back of a late model Dodge Van, parked on a side street, less than two blocks away. It took them less than a minute to induce both agents into a trance. Within a dozen seconds of doing this, they were out the front door and making a hasty traverse through the surveillance area, by foot. Once they were clear of the cameras they nudged the two agents out of their trance. Both agents suspected that they had nodded off for a second, but neither was inclined to confess it to the other.

With the surveillance cameras behind them, Max and Isabel were free to begin their trek out of the city. While trying their best not to be seen, they steered a course due west. Their ability to feel the world around them with their minds was inaccessible while their thoughts were attached to the process of walking. Because of this conflict, they came close to being seen, on several occasions, by occupants in passing cars. They had no fear about being seen by strangers. But they did fear being seen by OSI agents. Despite this concern, they managed to reach the outskirt of the city within forty-five minutes. They then produced flashlights and pushed on into the black of the wilderness.

It was four in the morning, Thursday, when Max and Isabel approached the location where Kyle spent the night of his transition into one of them. Despite the faint glow of light just above the eastern horizon, the landscape was still, mostly, hidden beneath the dark of the night. This dim illumination however, did make it easy for them to count two flashlights signaling towards them. When they arrived at the rock where the thirteen of them once stood, they found Michael and Kyle waiting there.

"Is it just us so far?" Max questioned the moment he confronted Michael.

"I see two more lights," Kyle reported while staring out into the distance that Max and Isabel just came from.

The lights appeared to be several minutes apart from each other. But they both were moving in a line to their general location. Kyle began signaling with a wave of his flashlight. Shortly both lights briefly signaled back. It took another ten minutes for the first light to arrive at their location. The owner of it rushed into Max's arms. It was Liz.

"Are you alright?" Max questioned in a voice full of concern as he held her in his embrace.

Max's greatest concern, at that moment, was for the pain he feared Liz was experiencing. He knew how much she loved her parents. And how much she wished they could have stayed.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Liz assured as she held tightly onto Max.

"Did you have any problems?" Max questioned after cupping her face between his hands.

Liz looked up into Max's eyes for a moment before softly shaking her head as she spoke.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," she reported with a slight a smile.

What Liz called "nothing she couldn't handle" was a homeless drunk she came across by accident. Eager for her company and feeling unthreatened by her sex, the drunk persisted in trying to talk to her. After spending more than two minutes trying to persuade him to go away, Liz used the power of her mind to toss him five yards through the air. The impact of the landing and his intoxicated condition combined to effect unconsciousness. Max considered asking her what she meant by "nothing she couldn't handle." But he determined from her smile that it was something that could wait for another time. Instead, they turned their attentions to the approaching light and watched Maria make her way to them.

Maria and Michael duplicated the greeting that Max and Liz performed five minutes earlier. But they did this to a greater length. Shortly, Max, Liz, Isabel and Kyle were made uncomfortable by the extent of their affection and diverted their attentions elsewhere. Three minutes later their passion for one another had reached the extent that was practical under the circumstances. Maria then turned her attention about to acknowledge the others who were there. After a couple of minutes of greetings, smiles and hugs, the six of them settled into an uncomfortable silence as they waited for the others to come.

The six of them were not surprised that the other eight were not yet there. They knew that their travel from the north of Roswell added almost twice the distance to their walk. Their greatest concern was that something went wrong with their escape from the surveillance. They knew that if anything went wrong, and they were spotted, they would likely not get away at all. It was at fifteen minutes before seven in the morning, Thursday, when the remainder of the Roswell Fourteen began to file into their location and set their minds at ease. Gleefully, they welcomed each new arrival. By seven-thirty that morning, the Roswell Fourteen were assembled again. All were dressed in hiking shoes, pants or shorts, caps and backpacks and looked to be on a hike.

"So, we're going to do this?" Isabel somberly questioned as she gripped tightly to Kenneth Burton's hand.

The Roswell Fourteen stood about in a circle, on the top of a rock formation, pondering the first step of the rest of their lives. The morning sun, low in the sky, created long shadows that streaked across the landscape for as far as they could see.

"There's no turning back," Max softly spoke to all there.

"What if we find this place and there's nothing there? What do we do then?" Aaron questioned the group.

"We keep walking," Michael announced as if he was speaking the obvious.

"All of us, together?" Jason tossed out to all present. "It's just a matter of time before they start scouring the desert for us."

"We can't split up," Liz spoke up in a panicked tone.

"I agree," Maria quickly supported. "We have to stay together."

"If we stay together they will find us all," Kyle reported with a solemn shake of his head.

"I think we'll have to break into smaller groups," Jason declared with an inflection of dread. "We're too big."

Roswell Fourteen quietly pondered this with expressions of fear on their faces. After five seconds of this Isabel spoke up with a mixture of fear and defiance in her voice.

"So what if they find us all, at least we'll be together."

"No we won't," Max softly corrected. "They'll split us up."

Isabel absorbed this information with a look towards Kenneth with an expression of terror. A second later she pulled herself in tight against his body and clung to him with an anguished expression. Liz, Maria, Tess, Julie, Ashley and Eve were equally affected by this thought and clung tighter to their mate.

"They haven't found us yet," Kenneth spoke up confidently for Isabel's benefit. "I think we should find this thing, whatever it is, and then go from there."

"I agree," Michael quickly concurred.

The male members of the group look to one another for support in this thinking. Shortly they had all given looks and nods of agreement. It was nearly eight o'clock when the Roswell Fourteen started to move as one. Their destination was somewhere in the wilderness southwest of Roswell, New Mexico. They estimated their time of arrival at somewhere around days end.


	59. Chapter 59 Thursday Morning

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 59: Thursday Morning

When Agent Devon Plank told Phillip and Diane that they were being taken to a detention location, they anticipated going to the tiny FBI field office there in Roswell, or the local Sheriff Station. The last thing he expected to see was Roswell falling away out the rear window of the vehicle they were in.

"You can't do this," Phillip complained to the back of Agents Plank's and Gummersall's heads.

To no surprise to Phillip, or Diane, he received no response to his complaint. They had both noted that Agents Plank and Gummersall had lost all interest in communicating with them once they were secured inside the vehicle. Their communication from that moment on was limited to necessary instructions couched in polite verbiage. Their requests for information about where they were going were repeatedly ignored. Shortly Phillip concluded that they had to be on their way to, the much larger, Albuquerque Office of the FBI. This theory was dispelled, nearly an hour later, when they split off of Route 380 and started southwest towards Alamogordo.

"Where are we going?" Diane questioned Phillip in an alarmed tone.

"I think we're going to Holloman," Phillip nearly whispered back as he continued to study their course.

Nearly an hour later, this suspicion was confirmed when their vehicle pulled up to a security check point for Holloman Air Force Base. Agents Plank and Gummersall displayed their identifications, which the guard checked against a list. Shortly after this, the guard opened the gate and they drove right on in. There was no surprise in this. Their suspicion had been, increasingly, reinforced the closer they got to the base. What did surprise them, and very much so, was the sight of Jeff and Nancy Parker in the vehicle just in front of them.

Both vehicles steered through the base, one behind the other, and came to a stop in front of a long, three storied, rectangular building. It was unspectacular in appearance. And it looked designed to be functional and not decorative. The windows on the second and third floors were uniformly spaced. Agents Plank and Gummersall promptly got out of the vehicle and took up stances just outside of it. Phillip and Diane noted that they were still locked in. With nothing else that they could do, they sat and watched as two uniformed members of the bases Military Police, complete with side arms, took possession of Jeff and Nancy Parker. The two MP's lead them into the building while Jeff voiced his displeasure in a continuous stream. Shortly after they disappeared into the building, two MP's did the same for them.

"Where are you taking us?" Phillip demanded angrily.

"We're taking you to your quarters," the first MP reported directly.

"We don't want quarters," Diane complained. "We want to know what's going on."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the first MP responded in a polite monotone voice. "I don't have that information."

"Then who does?" Phillip roared back as he continued to follow the two MP's.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the first MP responded in his usual delivery. "I don't know that either."

Phillip and Diane followed the two MP's up the main stairs, in the middle of the building, to the third floor. From there they were lead down a long hall that had a series of doors evenly spaced down either side. Each door was numbered between 201 and 230. Each end of the hall was being guarded by two MP's. Phillip and Diane greedily took all of this in as they followed the two MP's to door 211. The first MP opened the door, stepped inside the room and ushered them both in. Phillip and Diane hesitantly stepped inside the room and then turned back around to face the first MP.

"This will be your temporary quarters during your stay here," the first MP reported stoically. "If you need anything just knock on the door."

Phillip and Diane noted the last part of that statement with curiosity. However, before they could question why they should knock for anything, the first MP stepped out of the room and shut the door. A second after this, they heard the click of it being locked. Phillip quickly noted that the doorknobs had been switched around so that a key was needed to get out.

"They locked us in," Phillip exclaimed as he tried to turn the knob to open the door.

Five seconds later, he gave up on this and turned about to examine the room. It was easy to see that the room was configured to house six people. There were three bunk beds situated inside. There was a chest cabinet at the foot of each bunk bed and one to the left at the head. On the right side of the room was a row of six wardrobe cabinets. Windows to the outside world were above the chest cabinets at the head of the beds. On the opposite wall was a long desk, with four stations, built into the wall. Phillip and Diane perused all of this for a few minutes and then settled in for the wait.

Over the next hour, they heard the footfalls of people coming and going on a semi-regular basis. They heard some talk as well. But the words were often too faint to comprehend. Shortly into the next hour this pattern of traffic came to a stop. Over the next three hours, they heard an occasional knock on the door to another room. This was routinely followed by the sound of the footfalls of one of the MP's and a faint garble of talk between him and the person who knocked. This process, on two occasions, preceded a bathroom run by someone in another room. It was nearly a quarter past ten o'clock in the morning when Phillip and Diane heard someone knocking on their door.

"Come in," Phillip called out after he and Diane got up onto their feet.

Almost immediately after saying this, an MP, complete with sidearm, opened the door stepped into the room and stood to one side, smartly. As soon as he did this a young and inoffensive looking Airman First Class walked into the room and stopped in front of Phillip. He wore an expression that suggested he was a little confused by what was happening.

"Hi," the young airman greeted with a nervous smile.

Phillip and Diane gave no response to this other than to examine him detestably.

"I need your lunch selections," the airman announced as he extended a menu.

This statement, instantly, brought Phillip's feeling of annoyance beyond his ability to keep checked.

"I don't give a damn about eating lunch in this place," Phillip roared at the young man. "I want to know who's in charge here. I want to know what the hell is going on."

The young airman was visibly shocked by this outburst. He hesitated for a moment to recover his wits before responding to Phillip's outburst.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the young airman answered back with a wide eyed expression. "I don't know that."

"Then get someone in here who does."

"I can't. I'm just here to get your meal selections."

"Do you know anything about our children? Are they here?"

"I'm sorry; I don't know anything about any children."

"They're teenagers. They're not much younger than you."

The young airman gave the MP, standing behind and to the left, a nervous glance before responding to this question.

"I'm just here for your selections."

After this statement, Phillip and Diane gave one another knowing looks that the young man in front of them knew nothing. Phillip instantly felt guilty about browbeating this young airman who looked to be only a few years older than Max. After giving the airman a sympathetic look, Phillip reached up and took the menu. Diane gave him a slight smile before turning her attention to the menu. The airman relaxed a little bit at the sight of it.

"You wouldn't happen to know how long they plan on keeping us waiting," Phillip questioned mildly while examining the menu in his hand.

"Ah …I don't know," the airman nervously answered.

The young airman took a second to give the MP at the door a quick visual search for disapproval. He then turned back to Phillip and Diane an added the one thing he did know about their stay.

"I need to get your dinner and breakfast selections too."

Phillip and Diane looked up from the menu sharply with newly angered expressions.

_Line Break_

Within a fifteen minute interval, shortly after seven AM Thursday morning, Ryan had collected all of the surveillance recordings for the night just past. A staff of eight Intelligence Analysts began filtering through the videos as quickly as they could load them into their stations. The eight stations were set up in the large main room of the house that Ryan was using as the base of operations for the surveillance of the Roswell Fourteen. He paced about behind the eight analysts anxiously waiting for one of them to find something to explain how the Roswell Fourteen slipped by them. To his surprise, it took less than thirty minutes for one of his analysts to find something startling.

"He just walked out the front door," the first analyst reported with a shocked inflection.

Ryan rushed over to the computer station and watched a video of Michael Guerin, toting a backpack, leaving his home at a hurried pace. His first reaction to seeing this was disbelief. He thought it mind boggling that the agents in the field, who were monitoring this video as it was happening, did not see this. His instinct was to be furious with the level of incompetence necessary to enable this to happen. But his mind latched on to the thought that this could not have been how all fourteen eluded their surveillance. He quickly put this aside in his thinking and urged his analysts to keep looking. And within three minutes of this first discovery, he saw it happen again.

"They walked out the front door," Ryan reported to the image of General Pittman on the computer monitor in front of him.

Within five minutes after seeing video of the Roswell Fourteen leaving their homes in the middle of the night, Ryan was on a video conference call reporting this information to General Pittman.

"What the hell does that mean," General Pittman roared back at him.

"Shortly after one o'clock last night all fourteen of the Roswell Fourteen walked out the front door unseen by any of our agents," Ryan exclaimed with an excited inflection.

"That's impossible," General Pittman bellowed back at him.

"We have it on video," Ryan contradicted with enthusiasm. "It was digitally recorded, but our field agents didn't see it when it was happening."

General Pittman had trouble wrapping his mind around this. He rolled this concept around in his mind with a perplexed look on his face.

"What this means, General," Ryan continued two seconds later. "They not only knew that we were watching them, they knew we were coming for them and they manipulated our agents somehow to make their escape."

General Pittman did not share Ryan's amazement. He was not sure if he believed any of this. But the one thing he was convinced of was that these teenagers, deliberately, gave him the slip and embarrassed him in front of the Secretary of Defense.

"So where the hell did they go?" General Pittman demanded after a moment of thought.

"I don't know," Ryan responded with a slight expression of surprise. "They left on foot and they were all carrying backpacks."

Ryan did not understand General Pittman's anger about this. He thought it was fascinating. In his wildest dream he never imagined that he would be a part of an operation that was as exciting as this. He held no ill will for these teenagers, and secretly he was actually sympathetic towards them. Much of this regard was derived from the hundreds of hours he spent studying their lives. He saw nothing in these teenagers that he could construe as a threat to anyone else. From what he saw, the Roswell Fourteen were genuinely devoted to their parents. What he was just beginning to notice in himself was that a part of him wanted these teenagers to get away.

"Good," General Pittman acknowledged to Ryan's last statement with a glint of excitement in his eyes. "The Secretary is bringing in the FBI. If they're using any kind of public conveyance, they'll get them. But if they're still on foot that means they're somewhere in the desert and I've got them," he finished with a thrilled expression on his face.

Ryan's own mood soured at the sight of this. He knew the truth of what the General was saying. If they were on foot and in the desert then General Pittman had everything he needed right there at Holloman to detect, encircle and capture the Roswell Fourteen.

"Send me everything you've got. And then pack up and get out of there," General Pittman, eagerly, ordered Ryan. "I want you here at Holloman, ASAP."

"Yes Sir," Ryan responded somberly.


	60. Chapter 60 Thursday Afternoon

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 60: Thursday Afternoon

The sun was nearly directly overhead, brightly glowing in a light blue sky streaked with shear white clouds high up in the distance. The Roswell Fourteen had been hiking through the wilderness southwest of the city for the past five hours, pausing only long enough to take a drink, wipe the seat from their brows or catch their breath. They had been walking in a line, for the most part. Michael's eagerness to find this phantom that had been haunting his dreams for the past ten years kept him in the lead. However, this position was easily interchangeable between any of them. They all had the location of this whispering rock firmly fixed in their heads. It was as if they were intimately familiar with this terrain. All surmised that the merge between the fourteen of them awakened a memory in their heads. This belief, in itself, felt like an awakened memory.

It was half past one in the afternoon when the Roswell Fourteen took their first significant break. The shade provided by the overhang of a large rock, as big as a bus, was an inviting location for this rest. The group took to sitting on any semi flat surface they could find beneath its shadow. Most sat on the ground. Despite this look of ease, all among them were on their guard against being seen by anyone on the ground or in the air. Most among them were attentive to obvious signs of men and machine. Max was more concerned about what could be out there that would likely not be easy to see. He feared being seen and not knowing it. He knew if that happened all fourteen of them could walk into a trap before knowing they had been sighted.

Max gave little attention to the ground. So long as their pursuers did not know what vicinity they were in or even which direction they went, he suspected that a search party was several days away from producing any results. This was based on his calculation that a search on foot would require far more men than the OSI or Holloman had to be effective in the short term. And he suspected that ground vehicles and low flying aircraft would be seen and heard by the superb sight and hearing of their group before their occupants spotted them. He could see that most among them were giving close attention to just this type of search patrol.

What Max thought was most likely to spot them without their knowing it was a high flying aircraft that had telescopic visual equipment onboard with infrared capability. Because of this concern he spent this rest period searching the sky in minute detail, and he was not the only one. Aaron had his eyes on the sky as well. But it was Max who first saw the distant speck that looked to be barely moving in the sky.

"There," Max exclaimed with a point.

All eyes looked up towards the patch of sky that Max was pointing to. Kyle retrieved a pair of binoculars from his backpack a second after this and examined the area through them.

"It's a Predator Drone," Kyle reported five seconds later. "It's moving past us. So I don't think it has seen us yet."

"Get out of the shade," Max quickly ordered.

Everyone obeyed this command without thinking twice about it. They all knew that their heat signatures would stand out beneath the shade of the rock. Because of this, they all ran around to the side that was baking under the sun. Each of them laid prone against the slant of the rock in the hope that their heat signatures would blend in with it. They stayed in this position for nearly three minutes as they watched the drone disappear above the horizon. At the end of this time, they returned to the shade and stayed there for another ten minutes with all eyes searching the sky. At the end of this time they were convinced that there was nothing in the air close enough to see them. And they set off again for their destination.

_Line Break_

"Where are the parents?" Ryan questioned the MP who was driving the vehicle he was in.

The MP had no idea who the parents were. In fact, he knew very little about what was going on. The best that he could discern from all that was happening this day was that General Pittman was looking for someone.

"The civilians they brought in," the MP began with an inflection of confusion, "are locked up, Sir."

"Locked up?" Ryan questioned back in a voice full of shock.

"Ah …yes Sir," the MP responded with a touch of fear that he said the wrong thing. "They're being detained in dorm rooms."

Ryan gave the MP a moment of fierce study before turning his attention straight ahead. He did not care for the idea that the parents of the Roswell Fourteen were being treated in this fashion. He felt he understood them more than anyone in this situation. He knew that these teenagers were their children, regardless of whatever else they might be. And, above all else, he believed they had a right to know what was happening to their family. It was five minutes after four in the afternoon when the vehicle he was in came to a stop in front of the hangar that served as General Pittman's Command and Control Center. He jumped quickly out of the car and strode briskly through the hangar door that was promptly opened by the MP guarding it. Inside Ryan slowed his pace to give note to the bustle of activity going on within.

"Major," General Pittman called out to him in a loud voice.

Ryan turned towards the sound and saw the General finish a wave of his arm that signaled he should come to him. He quickly complied with this request by walking over to where the General was standing. Situated in front of General Pittman was, what looked to be, four elaborate game consoles. Each station had seven monitors. The largest one was bigger than the other six combined. It was situated above the others and was obviously there for the convenience of spectators. Sitting in front of each station were two airmen. One was operating the flight controls and the other was the sensor operator. Ryan immediately recognized these as control stations for Predator Drones.

"We've got them, Major," General Pittman, greedily, exclaimed to Ryan in a hushed voice.

The General was concerned that they were not far enough away from ears that did not have clearance to hear their conversation. Still, he did not turn his gaze away from the monitors as he reported this to Ryan. His attention flashed back and forth between the four large screens in front of him.

"Have we picked them up, Sir?" Ryan questioned halfheartedly.

"No, but we will," General Pittman reported quickly with a sudden turn towards Ryan and a point of his finger.

Ryan took this in with a slight feeling of relief.

"Secretary Drenning brought in the FBI," General Pittman continued in his hushed tone with an upbeat inflection. "They've identified every person that left Roswell last night by bus, train and air," he asserted with a hint of a smile. "They're still here; Major and we're going to get them," he insisted as he turned his attention back to the monitors.

Ryan suspected the General was right about this. He knew if the Roswell Fourteen was still in the city then it was just a matter of time before they were found. And if they were in the desert they would likely find them even sooner. This was an event that he thought was inevitable and he accepted this from the beginning. He told himself it was his job to secure these individuals and he did his best to remain detached about their fates. He intellectually understood that what happened to them after they were captured was not his portion of the overall plans for the Roswell Fourteen. He reminded himself of this, once again. And then he accepted it along with a deep breath.

"What are your plans for the parents, Sir?" Ryan questioned at near to a whisper.

"The parents are contained," General Pittman replied while holding his attention on the screens.

"Has anyone told them about their kids?" Ryan questioned stoically.

"No, the parents haven't been told anything." General Pittman returned gruffly.

Ryan understood that disclosing the truth about the Roswell Fourteen to the parents was always part of the plan. No one could see a way around this. Because of this he never envisioned a time when the parents would be detained without explanation while being forcibly separated from their children. Knowing this was happening at that moment gave him reason to be concerned for them. But he could see in General Pittman a complete lack of regard for the parents.

"I thought we were going to disclose everything to the parents after we collected them?" Ryan questioned with a confused inflection.

"That plan went out the window when you failed to grab their kids," General Pittman returned sternly as he studied the monitors. "Without those teenagers we have no leverage to prevent them from going public."

"With all due respects, Sir, but yes we do," Ryan calmly countered.

"Explain, Major," General Pittman commanded with a sharp look towards him.

"Their kids are hunted fugitives," Ryan responded as though he was stating the obvious. "If they go public now, they'll be bringing every law enforcement agency in the country in on the search for them."

General Pittman was visibly intrigued by this logic. He gave Ryan a ponderous look for three seconds before deciding on a response.

"I like that. But there's no hurry on it," General Pittman began after turning his attention back onto the screens. "Besides, if I'm right we'll have those teenagers before the day is over."

"Do we know that they're in the desert, Sir?" Ryan questioned after a brief study of the monitors.

General Pittman did not even flinch, physically, in response to this question. His eyes continued to scan the monitors in front of him as he gave his reply.

"The backpack, the water canteens, the hats, where else could they have been going?"

"Don't you find that a little strange, Sir?" Ryan suggested with a pondering inflection.

General Pittman became mildly intrigued with Ryan's suggestion that something was amiss. He wanted to know what the thinking was behind this.

"Strange how," General Pittman questioned with a look?

"Well, they had access to vehicles," Ryan began with a puzzled expression on his face. "If they had used them, they could have been halfway across Texas by the time we discovered them missing."

"Tracking down their vehicles would have been even easier than this," General Pittman retorted with a point to the monitors.

"They could have ditched them and switched to new vehicles," Ryan continued to reason out. "Or they could have jumped on a train, or a bus," he speculated off the top of his head.

"Where are you going with this, Major?" General Pittman asked with a stern look towards Ryan.

"I just think it's strange that Kenneth Burton came back to Roswell after being away for ten years," Ryan began with an introspective look. "These kids were placed here in Roswell, including Kenneth Burton. There has to be a reason for that. Something has to be holding them here. If we find out what that is, then we might find out where they are going."

By the end of this statement General Pittman was infected with the same suspicion. He rolled the idea over in his mind for several seconds before coming back to Ryan for assistance.

"Where do you think they're going?"

"I don't know," Ryan returned with a shake of his head. "But their parents might."

"The parents don't know anything," General Pittman sternly contradicted.

"We don't know that, Sir," Ryan calmly countered.

General Pittman took a minute to think about this. At the end of this time he spoke the question that his contemplation produced.

"And you think they'll tell us?"

"I think they'll do whatever they can to protect their children," Ryan retorted definitively.

General Pittman pondered this statement for several seconds before nodding his head in agreement.


	61. Chapter 61 Thursday Evening

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 61: Thursday Evening

It was five minutes past six o'clock in the evening when the growing commotion of people talking and moving about outside their room caused Phillip and Diane to stop their discourse and turn their full attentions to it. What made this disturbance unusual was the size of it. They were accustomed, by then, to interactions between the MP's who stood guard in the hall and the occupants in the other rooms. They had themselves on five occasions called an MP to their room to put a question or complaint to him, and once for a bathroom break. The MP's were polite and attentive, for the most part. They did what they could, within the limits of what they could do, to make their stay comfortable. Because of their relative good nature and polite demeanor, several of their guests were embolden to be difficult. Their raucous complaints and demands were frequently heard resonating down the hall. But these were always isolated incidents between one or two MP's and the occupants of a single room. What was happening at this moment seemed to be spreading into several rooms. And it was coming closer to them as it did.

Phillip and Diane were lying, cuddled together, in one of the single occupancy beds when they heard a knock on the door across the hall from them. They both listened intensely to the conversation that followed. The exchange was quick and polite. The MP asked that Mr. and Mrs. Ross come with him. They heard no reply to this. But they did hear the movement of feet. This suggested to them that Mr. and Mrs. Ross, who were people they did not know, were following the instructions of the MP. Phillip and Diane were made curious by this, instantly. Their minds began entertaining questions about where they were going and what was happening. Before they could vocalize these thoughts to one another they were distracted by the sound of someone knocking on their door.

"Come in," Phillip instructed a second after he and Diane had gotten to their feet.

A second later, a tall MP opened the door and stepped just over the threshold before speaking in a polite manner.

"Mr. and Mrs. Evans, could you please come with me?"

"Where are we going?" Phillip challenged.

"The cafeteria," the MP answered without hesitation.

"I'm not interested in food. I want to know what's going on," Phillip countered with a flash of temper.

The MP seemed completely unfazed by this. He continued to display a polite countenance in his response.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I know less than you about what's going on. My instructions are to escort you to the cafeteria."

Phillip took a second to examine the MP and then walked out the door hand in hand with Diane. In the hall they noted several other people, men and women, walking down the hall towards the center stairwell.

"If you'll just follow them," the MP directed with a point.

Phillip and Diane had just completed three steps down the hall when they heard a familiar voice behind them. When they turned about to look, they saw Jeff Parker angrily entering the hall at the direction of another MP. With him was his wife, Nancy. Jeff was in the middle of making threats of law suits and criminal charges when he and Nancy noted them. Jeff stopped his complaining at that instant and hurried toward them with Nancy in hand.

"What the hell is going on here?" Jeff questioned an instant after stopping in front of Phillip and Diane.

"I don't know," Phillip softly responded with a shake of his head.

"Where's Liz?" Diane questioned Nancy an instant behind with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"I don't know," Nancy answered back quickly, with equal anxiety. "She wasn't in the house when we got up this morning."

"Neither was Max and Isabel," Diane confided.

"What do they want with our children?" Nancy questioned back with a terrified look.

Just as Nancy spoke, Phillip noticed that the MP who came to his door was escorting someone out of the room that was further down the hall. Jeff followed his look. A second later they were both surprised to see Jim Valenti walk out of that room. He noticed them a second behind. He then turned and walked towards them at an unhurried pace. His expression carried a bit of a scowl that seemed to be directed at everything around him with exception for the Evans and the Parkers.

"You folks alright…?" Jim questioned as soon as he reached them.

Jeff ignored this question and jumped to the one he was most interested in at that moment.

"Do you know what's going on?"

"We're being detained," Jim reported under his breath as he continued to scowl at his surroundings.

"Detained?" Jeff questioned loudly and with an inflection of incredulity. "What the hell is that supposed to mean."

Before Jim could respond to this, Phillip put a quick question to him.

"Is Kyle missing?"

"Yeah," Jim responded with a quick look to Phillip. "…your kids?"

Phillip and Jeff answered this with a nod and a "yes." Before they could discuss it any further, a MP, politely, interrupted them and requested that they continue down to the cafeteria. The five of them put up no resistance to this and proceeded down the hall and then down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, on the ground floor, was another MP. He directed them towards a door, a short distance down a center hall, which another MP was attending to. When they got to that door, that MP opened it and ushered them in.

The instant they walked through the door, the Parkers, the Evans and Jim were engulfed in the smells of cooked food. After a few steps into the room they located the serving area where the aroma was coming from. There were no cafeteria workers anywhere in the room. And, not to their surprise, there seemed to be very few takers for the food. A collection of men and women, of mature age, were seated at tables at the front of the cafeteria, in a cluster. Jim noted that Russell Guerin was chomping away at a plate full of food. But the most that any of the others had was a drink.

"Nancy," Amy DeLuca called out as she jumped up from her seat and hurried towards her.

They quickly hugged and separated.

"What's happening?" Amy questioned Nancy with an astonished look.

Nancy responded to this with a confused shake of her head and a mumbled, "I don't know."

Without hesitation, Amy turned to Jim with a questioning look. "Why did they bring us here?"

Amy was not the only person in the room looking to Jim for answers. The other parents, minus Russell Guerin, got up behind Amy and moved to within speaking distance. Before Jim could answer Amy's inquiry he began hearing new ones from this group. Most wanted to know why they were they brought there. But all, minus Russell Guerin, wanted to know where their kids were.

"That's what they want to know," Jim responded to the group. "They're looking for our children."

Jim was instantly hit with a barrage of questions that varied on the same request. "Why do they want our kids?"

"I don't know," Jim spoke up loudly to silence the group. "But I think our children do."

A second after this, a murmur of confused questions began between the parents. This went on for a dozen seconds before Phillip spoke up to organize their inquiries.

"Wait a minute," Phillip spoke loudly.

Almost immediately, all talking stopped and all eyes turned to Phillip.

"We need to find out what our kids have in common," Phillip continued in a voice loud enough for all to hear. "My son and my daughter are seniors at Roswell High. Is that true for everyone here?"

There was an immediate response to this. All concurred that their children were seniors in high school. But many of them were quick to point out that their children attended either Goddard or University High Schools. After that they began examining their children's relationships with each other. Most had no knowledge that their children were acquainted with the children of the other parents. And all were surprised to learn that they had secretly met together inside the old soap factory building. After ten minutes of researching every possible way that they could think of for their children to be acquainted, the group settled into an exhausted silence.

All of the parents were seated, once again, and silently pondering the questions around their children when Russell Guerin decided to toss out his feelings on the whole situation. Up until this moment, he had nothing to add to their conversation. He had no idea how Michael was connected with any of their children, and he did not care. It was only this lull in their conversation that prompted him to say anything at all.

"Well, I don't know about any of your kids," Russell announced with indifference. "But Michael is a freak of nature. And I wish to god I had never adopted him."

Russell Guerin had Jim's full attention an instant after this remark. Amy knew that Michael was adopted and so did the Evans. But this was news to everyone else and astonishingly so to Jim and the Parkers.

"You adopted Michael?" Jim questioned Russell with a surprised expression.

"Hell yeah," Russell answered back with a tinge of anger. "You don't think my wife would have run off without him if he was her kid."

Everyone there noted Jim's surprise with this. But it was Jeff who was first to question it.

"Why?" Jeff questioned in an alarmed tone. "What's so important about that?"

Jim took a moment to ponder the inquiry before answering it with a hint of reluctance.

"Kyle is adopted too."

The Evans, the Parkers and Amy were shocked to hear this. The rest of the parents were noting this with extreme interest as well. After taking a moment to assimilate this new information, Phillip, softly, made a confession.

"Max and Isabel are adopted."

"Oh my god," Amy blurted out an instant before bringing her hands up to her mouth.

"Is that what this is about?" Jeff questioned loudly as he stood up with an angry expression.

Several others in the room stood up to better hear and see what was being said. Nancy looked up at her husband in stunned silence. Jim took note that all within the room, with the exception of Russell Guerin, were equally as shocked as Nancy. His suspicion told him that this was the commonality between all of their children. Nonetheless, he tentatively put this theory to the test.

"…Everyone who adopted …raise a hand."

To the surprise of all there, they all raised their hands. After several seconds of amazed silence Jim responded to this discovery.

"This can't be a coincidence."

"But what does it mean?" Amy questioned in a near terrified tone.

"It doesn't mean anything," Jeff asserted strongly. "It's not a crime to adopt."

As they were speaking this, Phillip was pondering another question. A second after Jeff made his assertion; he put his question to the test with a gently spoken statement.

"We adopted from the Holcomb Children's Home in Albuquerque."

There was an audible gasp from several that was heard throughout the room. It took little more than a minute for all there to confirm that they too adopted from this institution. Even after this was uncovered, all there were still confused. No one knew where to go from there. It seemed obvious to everyone that this was somehow responsible for this whole event, but how this was so was beyond any of them to imagine. A silence fell over the room as all there tried to make sense of this. A minute later General Pittman and Major Ryan Kawecki walked into the room. Ryan was carrying a small two way radio that was just big enough to be too big to fit in any of his pockets.

Following behind General Pittman and Ryan were four airmen in fatigues and a sidearm. Two of them came to a stop a short distance into the cafeteria's front entrance and took an at ease stance. The other two went to the rear entrance and took identical postures. These men were not Military Police. They wore no insignia with that designation. General Pittman came to a stop a few feet in front and at the center of the formation of parents. Ryan came to a stop at his right and a step behind. All eyes of the parents were on them the instant they walked into the cafeteria.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is General William Pittman," he began in a strong clear voice.

"Where are our children?" Nancy called out before he could say more.

"We're looking for your children, Mrs. Parker," General Pittman answered calmly.

"Why?" Jim questioned quickly. "What do you want with our kids?"

General Pittman paused for a moment to scan the faces of the parents. At the end of this time he responded to Jim's question in a succinct delivery.

"Your children are not who you think they are."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jeff roared back at him.

"It means Mr. Parker," General returned gruffly. "Your children are of extraterrestrial origins."

From the instant that General Pittman said this, the parents began to verbalize, in various words and expressions, their complete disbelief in this accusation. General Pittman gave no response to this other than to hold his stance and wait for the parents to quiet. After nearly a minute all eyes settled on him as he stood there in defiance of their reaction. He then began to explain this conclusion.

"Two years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Parker, your daughter, Elizabeth Parker, was shot. To the surprise of the attending doctor, she not only survived the wound, she did so in spectacular fashion. So much so that the doctor took it upon himself to send her blood out to a lab to be analyzed. The results of that analysis made its way to the Pentagon."

The parents were enthralled with this report. No one moved. Not a sound was made as they continued to listen to General Pittman's report.

"The blood was subjected to further study by a battery of geneticists, biochemists, neurogeneticists and molecular biologists. They all came to the same conclusion. Your daughter wasn't conceived by anyone on this planet. She was engineered."

The parents all but held their breaths as they assimilated what they were being told. General Pittman paused only long enough to glance about the room and then he continued with his report.

"What was even more fascinating in their report was the statement that the expertise necessary to engineer your daughter was a thousand years ahead of anything that can be done today by anyone on this planet."

General Pittman paused again to note the looks on the parent's faces. After noting that he still had their full attention, he continued with his report.

"As a result of this report, we, the Department of Defense, organized a phony health scare and took a DNA sample of every registered person in Chaves County. That's when we discovered that there were twelve more individuals like Ms. Parker living in Roswell …all roughly the same age …and all of them adopted out of the Holcomb Children's Home by someone in this room."

There was no immediate response to this. The parents sat in stunned silence as they searched for the flaw in the logic, or the punch line in the joke. While they deliberated on this, the one parent who was not in disbelief spoke up with sarcasm.

"So that's what he is," Russell Guerin casually spoke out.

"No, there must be a mistake," Diane asserted an instant behind.

"There's no mistake, Mrs. Evans," General Pittman countered soberly. "Your children know this. And that's why their running. And it would be to your advantage to help us find them."

"And how do you figure that?" Jim calmly inquired.

"Right now," General Pittman began with a pleasant expression on his face. "There are a few hundred operatives of the Department of Defense out searching for your …children. If this goes public, every law enforcement agency in the country will be looking for them …their faces will be televised and published across all news mediums …and then every nut with a gun will be hunting for them."

The parents went deathly silent at the hearing of this. Their faces became a mask of panic as all there struggled to wrap their minds around what they were just told. Shortly into this quiet, Ryan began hearing a transmission on the two way radio in his hand. He, quickly, brought his hand up to the earpiece to facilitate hearing the caller. Two seconds after this he brought the phone up to his mouth and spoke into it.

"This is Major Kawecki, report, over."

General Pittman turned his attention towards Ryan and waited on his report. He knew that the call had to be coming from his Command and Control Center. The radio was his link to it when he was away. After ten seconds of listening, Ryan spoke back into the radio.

"Maintain surveillance and wait for further orders, over and out."

Ryan then looked to General Pittman and answered his unspoken question.

"We've found them."

As General Pittman began moving towards the exit, the Evans, the Parkers, Jim, Amy and the rest of the parents jumped to their feet while shouting questions at his back.

"Was that about our children?"

"Where are they?"

"Are they okay?"

"What are you going to do?"

General Pittman ignored these questions and rushed towards the exit. As he passed the two airmen standing ten feet into the cafeteria, he barked out an order.

"Stay here. Nobody leaves."

A second later, General Pittman and Ryan were out the cafeteria door. It was six fifty-five in the evening.


	62. Chapter 62 Thursday's Sunset

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 62: Thursday's Sunset

It was seven o'clock in the evening when the Roswell Fourteen stopped to rest again. The sun was situated over the western horizon dispensing hues of red, orange and yellow light across its length. The desert landscape was heavily streaked with long shadows that extended away from the bright ball of fire. The group came to a stop within the envelope of one of these shaded areas. Immediately into this respite all eyes were searching the sky for anything that could be perceived as a danger to them. Within seconds of this study, Kenneth spotted an aircraft.

"I see it," Michael confirmed with a point.

Two seconds after this report, all eyes were fixed on the tiny speck that was slowly inching its way across the sky. Kyle produced his binoculars once again and trained them on the object.

"It's another drone," Kyle reported as he continued to follow it with his binoculars.

"Has it spotted us?" Max questioned a second later.

"I think so," Kyle answered without delay. "It looks like it's circling us."

"Okay, we have to go," Michael insisted a second behind Kyle's report. "If we pick up the pace we should be there in little more than an hour."

"We can't out run that," Jason insisted in response. "That thing is going to be following us every step of the way."

"We don't have a choice," Michael argued back.

"Jason is right," Max defended. "We can't get away with that drone following us. We have to bring it down."

Michael gave Max a knowing look. All there knew what Max was suggesting and none of them were sure that it could be done.

"You think we can bring it down?" Kyle asked with a look to Max.

"I think we have to try," Max responded with a scan of the group.

Without verbally expressing it, all there agreed to this with their looks. Within seconds of reaching this consensus, the Roswell Fourteen began to merge. All fourteen of them began to silence their thoughts and blend into the collective consciousness that was forming between them. Thirty seconds into this a new mind, a single mind, came into existence and replaced the fourteen separate minds that were there before. Its aura extended out for more than fifty miles in every direction. Their new collective consciousness immediately began to focus its aura about the unmanned aerial vehicle. It was easily within their combined reach. But the distance, combined with the structural makeup of the craft, was making it difficult for them to physically damage the craft. It took their collective consciousness nearly a minute of intensive concentration to finally rip the flap and aileron free of the left wing. The drone spiraled into an uncontrolled rapid dissent. Fifteen seconds later it crashed into the desert.

Almost immediately after bringing down the drone, the Roswell Fourteen set off for their destination at a hurried pace. They knew that another drone would likely be in the area within the next thirty minutes. And they all suspected that manned aircraft would likely be right behind it. An hour later, the sun was halfway beneath the top of the horizon when they first heard the distant sounds of aircraft in their vicinity. They could tell by the familiar chopping sound that they were hearing a helicopter, and that they were hearing more than one. They knew that they were minutes away from their destination and this caused them to break out into a run. Ten minutes later the sun was gone from sight. All that was left of it was the glow of its presence below the western horizon. The whole of the landscape around them was bathed in the shadow of the planet.

"Over there," Liz called out with a point to the northwest.

Everyone stopped and looked in the direction of her point. A distant light cold be seen moving just over the top of the desert. Within seconds of this they saw a second light, and then a third, and a fourth. By the time they started running again there were six lights stretched out in a line moving in their direction. Five minutes later the Roswell Fourteen came to a stop. The lights were two minutes away from being right on top of them. They could tell from this distance that the lights were attached to helicopters and they were being used to illuminate the desert below it. Despite this dire situation, it was not the helicopters that caused them to stop. It was the landscape in front of them that held them in check.

The outcrop that they had been running to loomed in front of them. In appearance it looked like a giant rock that fell out of the sky and stuck into the earth. None of them had any doubts that this was the outcrop they had been looking for. They could feel it whispering, incomprehensibly, into their heads. They were momentarily stunned by the fact that they were in its presence. Despite this they did not know what to do next. After thirty seconds of staring at it in silence, they began to make their way up the earthen incline towards the rock face. Max led the way in this, but he was not aware of this. His mind had become merged with the whispering murmurs emanating from the rock. He knew he was moving. And it felt as if it was within his power to stop. But he felt no desire to do this. The pull of this strange sensation felt like a natural event to him. The fourteen of them moved towards the rock face as though they were in a daze. All of them were unaware that they were beneath the search lights of two helicopters when they reached the rock face.

Three seconds after the searchlights of the two helicopters illuminated the Roswell Fourteen; Max placed his right hand on the rock face. The instant he did this a large patch of that rock transformed into a wall of white light. The height of it at its center was over seven feet. A second after this wall of light appeared Max walked through it without any thought of doing otherwise. Immediately after doing this, the others followed him in, one after the other, one step behind.

For the Roswell Fourteen, the sights, sounds and smells of the world around them dissolved away the instant they stepped into the wall of light. A second after stepping into the light, each of them stepped into a large, narrow, oval room from separate points of entry along the side walls. At the moment of ingress the room was mostly dark. The white light that served as the doorway for each of them provided most of the light. Each of them stood in stunned silence, one step beyond the entryway, gazing upon this space that they had walked into. After a dozen seconds of nothing, Michael took a tentative step forward. At that moment, the door of light behind him transformed into the glass smooth surface that comprised the wall about the room. At that same moment the room became illuminated by overhead lights.

Slowly, the other members of the Roswell Fourteen took a step forward. All appeared to be mesmerized by the look of the large room that they were in. There were no corners or crevices. The walls curved seamlessly into the ceiling and the floor. Light overhead glowed directly out from the ceiling. The interior of the room had the appearance of a high tech command and control center. The center of the space was populated with twenty-five control panels, or what looked to be control panels, all facing the same direction. The location of these stations appeared to be positioned to match the oval shape of the room. The front and back end of the oval had one station. The row behind or in front of them had two stations, the row behind or in front of them had three stations, the row behind or in front of them had four stations and the row behind and in front of them had five.

Other than the lights nothing appeared to be operating inside. Despite this appearance, the Roswell Fourteen could still feel the whispering within their heads. The impression of it felt to be distant, nonsensical and familiar at the same time. After more than a minute of examining the space from afar, they slipped out of their backpacks, set them on the floor and began to move into the interior of the room at a slow pace. They walked quietly amidst the myriad of stations as though they were in a hypnotic trance. They said nothing to each other. Each of them was too busy listening to the murmur within their heads. Never before had they experienced this whispering while they were fully conscious and not merged into a collective consciousness. Even though they did not know what it was saying, or if it was saying anything at all, they all felt guided by it.

The Roswell Fourteen appeared to be studying the stations as they moved slowly between them. The stations felt familiar somehow to each member of the group. This was true despite the fact that they looked completely foreign in appearance. There were no monitors to look at. There were no keyboards or mouses. They slowly moved their fingers atop the back of the chairs and the control panels in front of them as they gazed upon them with amazed expressions. Two minutes into this all fourteen of them came to a stop in front of separate chairs and behind its control panel. Standing behind the center control panel, with his attention fixated on the panel in front of him, was Max. Arrayed around him, in identical states of fascination, were the other members of the group. After another fifteen seconds of staring they all, in one simultaneous motion, sat in the chairs behind them as though a hypnotic command told them to do so. The instant they settled into the seats, the chairs lit up and slid forward. A second after this the entire room lit up with activity. The walls around them became monitors. A myriad of data streamed across them in writing foreign to any culture, past or present, on planet earth. Visuals of the landscape around them, and the men and helicopters searching for them, could be seen. Despite this rush of activity, the Roswell Fourteen were completely unfazed by it. From the instant that they took their seats they were one with the ship. What was happening within the control center was miniscule by comparison to what was happening within their heads. For the first time in their existence as humans, the Roswell Fourteen knew who they were, where they came from and what they had to do.

_Line Break_

United States Air Force Captain Vincent Brewer had been flying his Pave Hawk Helicopter for an hour when he came across the people he was being directed to. After disembarking his compliment of an eight man security force, one-hundred yards back, he steered his helicopter over the area where he was being told the targets would be found. In less than a minute's time, his copilot had found the fourteen civilians with the searchlight. At first it appeared to him that they were trying to hide themselves next to a large rock formation. He assumed this because they were standing so still, and none of them looked up at them. He had just begun verbally directing his security forces towards them when he noticed a light that appeared to be emanating from the location where the targets were standing. He was, at first; reluctant to believe this was the case. The bright white light of the helicopter's search lamp gave him reason to believe this was an optical illusion. He ignored this bright spot, under this assumption, while he guided his security force to the target. A few seconds later, he became convinced that something unusual had happened after the targets disappeared into this bright spot, and it disappeared behind them.

After devoting a minute to trying to reacquire the targets, Captain Brewer reported back to Holloman that the targets had disappeared. This report did not sit well with a General Pittman, a person he had never heard of, who came on the line and ordered him to keep searching for the fourteen civilians. Under the General's continuous urging, Captain Brewer, along with five other helicopters, spent another fifteen minutes searching, in an ever widening circle, for the fourteen civilians. It was not until the end of this time that he had something to report back.

At first it looked like a laser light show rising up from the ground. It passed through the earth beneath it as though it was a ghost. It took all of thirty seconds for the whole of it to elevate into the air. It was then that Captain Brewer, and everyone else who were seeing this, concluded that they were seeing some kind of translucent craft. The girth of it was large enough to engulf the Astrodome. In appearance it looked like a rigid, enormous, jellyfish. The outline of the craft could only be made out by the lights being emitted at various locations about its surface. Everywhere else it was invisible. After it came to a hover, five-hundred feet up, Captain Brewer awakened from his shock and called it in.

"Holloman, this is Search Patrol One. Do you copy, over?" Captain Brewer announced into his microphone as he continued to stare out the front window of his helicopter with a look of wide-eyed amazement.

"Roger, Search Patrol One. This is Holloman, we copy, over," came the report back through Captain Brewer's headphones.

Captain Brewer hesitated to report. The event occurring outside of his helicopter had him nearly spellbound. After a pause of five seconds, he reported what he was reluctant to believe he was actually seeing.

"Holloman, we have …an unidentified flying object here. I repeat. An unidentified flying object has just …risen out of the ground, over."

Captain Brewer heard no response to this and he gave no thought to requesting one. The object looming in front of his helicopter had his full attention. He hovered in midair for thirty seconds watching it. And then suddenly it began to move. He watched with astonishment, pivoting his helicopter to keep it in front of him. The craft began at a slow pace. But it shortly reached a speed in excess of fifty miles per hour. Captain Brewer thought to follow it, but abandoned the idea when the craft went completely invisible. After taking a minute to relax and breath, Captain Brewer analyzed the course that the craft was on before it disappeared. Ten seconds into this he came to a startling realization. A second later he pressed his transmission button and radioed out.

"Holloman, be advised, the UFO is on a line for Holloman. I repeat the last known course of the UFO is on a line for your location, over."


	63. Chapter 63 Thursday Night

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 63: Thursday Night

It was five after seven in the evening when General Pittman and Ryan returned to the Command and Control Center in a rush. General Pittman wasted no time, and paid no attention to anyone attempting to salute him, while making his way to the control stations for the Predator Drones. Ryan stayed a step behind him. When they got to the stations their full attentions went to the large screen that everyone else was looking at. General Pittman moved in ahead of the other onlookers. An officer who was, at first, too busy studying the screen to see him come in, recognized him as he brushed by and acknowledged him with a quickly spoken, "General," and a sharp salute. General Pittman ignored him and the others who followed his lead. His attention was fixed on the screen and the multiple human heat signatures on display there.

"Report," General Pittman promptly ordered the sensor operator with a quick look.

"We count fourteen heat signatures, General," the sensor operator reported back. "I think we've found your civilians."

"Give me a visual image," General Pittman ordered without turning his attention away from the screen.

A second later the monitor switched to a visual image of the same location. The people in the image were barely noticeable as dark specks.

"Enlarge," General Pittman commanded as he strained to make out the images.

A second later the images of these humans nearly filled the screen. Because of the movement of the Predator Drone and the close up image, the sensor operator had trouble, at first, keeping the figures centered in the screen. After a few seconds he managed to hold the camera on most of the figures he was aiming for. A hint of excitement spread across the General's face when he got a good look at them.

"We got them," General Pittman announced with an excited look towards Ryan.

Ryan paid no attention to the General's assertion. His attention was fixed on the video of the Roswell Fourteen. There was something about their manner that he found odd. A second after General Pittman had spoken; the sensor operator annunciated this same inclination.

"What are they doing?"

"They're just standing there," Ryan returned with a curious inflection.

General Pittman paid no attention to this before. But the interest of the others forced him to take another look. After giving some attention to the behavior of the Roswell Fourteen, he noticed that they did seem to be standing as still as statues, staring into the space in front of them. He was still fixated on their peculiar demeanor, five seconds later, when the camera suddenly flew off the target and appeared to be spinning about.

"I've lost flight control," the Predator Pilot announced as he struggled to right the craft.

The image from the Predator's nose camera showed the craft spiraling towards the ground.

"What's happening?" General Pittman spoke as a command for a response.

"I've lost control of the Predator," the pilot reported as he continued to try and right the craft.

"It's going down," the sensor operator reported an instant behind.

Another five seconds into this, the video feed stopped suddenly. In its place was nothing but static.

The instant this happened, General Pittman began roaring out commands gruffly to everyone present.

"Get another drone in that area now. Find them. And direct all search patrols to this area. I want those kids back on my screen within the hour."

Without any hesitation, everyone went to work implementing General Pittman's orders, under his supervision. The General paced anxiously about the Command Center, waiting for news that the Roswell Fourteen had been reacquired. Ryan stood by quietly, waiting to be of use to the General. He was not anxiously anticipating a second sighting. His thoughts were preoccupied with the strange behavior of the Roswell Fourteen and the coincidence of the drone going down. He had no evidence or theories to connect the two events. But he could not help but notice that, over the past day, the Roswell Fourteen had been beneficiaries of some seemingly improbable coincidences. His rumination on this came to an end forty minutes later, when a new sensor operator yelled out, "we've got them."

General Pittman rushed over to the Predator flight control station that made the call. He, quickly, noted the heat signatures of the Roswell Fourteen on the large screen. They were in a line and on the move at a hurried pace. The General then checked a lower monitor to see where they were on a map of the area. He then turned his attention to a Lieutenant Colonel Babcock who was standing off to his left and barked out an order.

"Direct all of your Security Forces to this location, now."

The Lieutenant Colonel responded to the order with a quick, "yes Sir," and then turned about to implement it. General Pittman then turned his attention back to the large monitor and the images of the Roswell Fourteen running across the desert. After a few seconds of study, he casually gave an order to the pilot without turning away from the screen.

"Keep circling them."

Almost instantly, Ryan countermanded this order with a shout. "No, stay behind them, zigzag if you have to, but stay out of their line of sight."

All there turned their attentions towards Ryan with shocked expressions on their faces. Most notable among these was General Pittman. He examined Ryan curiously for all of three seconds and then turned to the pilot with new instructions.

"Do as the Major says."

The pilot of the Predator Drone complied with this instruction without difficulty. He made long zigzagging turns behind the fourteen civilians racing across the desert in front of him. Over the next twenty-five minutes General Pittman, Ryan and everyone else there watched the Roswell Fourteen run. At the end of this time, the sun had fallen beneath the horizon. The heat signatures of the fourteen teenagers stood out even better because of it. And then they started getting reports from six Air Force Pave Hawk Helicopters that were closing in on their location. All there, with the exception of the drone pilot and sensor operator, watched in silence as events unfolded. The end of this operation appeared to be minutes away. After another ten minutes into the chase, the Roswell Fourteen appeared to be trapped against the rock face of a large outcrop. The search lamps of two helicopters had them illuminated and forty, armed, Air Force Airmen were on the ground and closing in on their location. Between the helicopters hovering above them and the heat and light of their search lamps, the onlookers in Command and Control had a poor view of what was happening with the Roswell Fourteen. At this time, their primary source of information was radio reports from the field. And when they all thought that they were two or three minutes away from the end of this operation, an unexpected radio report came in.

"Holloman, this is Captain Brewer in Search Patrol One. Do you copy, over?"

Lieutenant Colonel Babcock was coordinating the activity between General Pittman's Command and Control and his Security Forces. He was holding the microphone when the call came in.

"Roger, Search Patrol One. This is Holloman, we copy, over," Lieutenant Colonel Babcock answered back through the microphone.

"Holloman, the targets are gone," Captain Brewer reported through the two way radio speakers.

Lieutenant Colonel Babcock was momentarily confused by this report. He paused for a second to consider it and came to the conclusion that the targets were simply on the move. At the end of this time he activated his microphone and responded in line with this supposition.

"Search Patrol One, this is Holloman. Where are the targets now, over?"

Lieutenant Colonel Babcock released the button to the microphone and waited calmly for the report. To his surprise, this was taking longer than he expected. He glanced over at General Pittman who was listening to everything that was happening with near to a scowl on his face. After ten seconds of silence, Lieutenant Colonel Babcock had experienced enough silence and was about to activate his microphone when Captain Brewer responded to his query.

"Holloman, they're gone. The targets are …gone. We have lost sight of the targets."

Lieutenant Colonel Babcock looked to General Pittman with a confused expression. At that instant he did not know what he should say or do. He was expecting to get some direction from him, but before he could request it General Pittman was snatching the microphone from his hand.

"Search Patrol One, this is Lieutenant General William Pittman," he growled into the microphone. "I want you to reacquire the targets. I want you to scour every inch of that area until you do. They're on foot. They can't be far. Find them! That's an order! Do you copy, over?"

"Roger that, Sir," came the reply through the speakers. "We are continuing the search, over."

General Pittman returned the microphone to Lt. Colonel Babcock after this and settled in for a wait. He and all there, with the exception of Ryan, were anticipating that the fourteen civilians would be found shortly. They waited and watched the video feed from the drone. As each minute passed they became more confused by the loss of these fourteen individuals. It made no sense to them that they were not detectable to their sensors. Despite this, they were expecting the ground force to find them eventually.

With each passing minute, Ryan became more convinced that the Roswell Fourteen had gotten away. It had been his suspicion for some time that there was something in or near Roswell that was holding them here. And his instincts were telling him that this place was where it was at. The last of his belief that they were going to catch these teenagers disappeared when they did. Now he watched and listened with the hope that they would reveal why they chose to come here. Nearly fifteen minutes into this vigil they gave him just that.

"What's that?" Lt. Colonel Babcock questioned with a point towards one of the smaller monitors.

The large monitor was displaying an infrared picture. The smaller monitor that Lt. Colonel Babcock was pointing to was displaying a normal video feed. General Pittman walked over to better see what he was looking at. He too noticed something strange within the image on the screen. But he could not make out what he was seeing. After a few seconds of examining it, he ordered the sensor operator to put it up on the large screen. Three seconds after this was done, Captain Brewer radioed in from the field.

"Holloman, this is Search Patrol One. Do you copy, over?"

"Roger, Search Patrol One. This is Holloman, we copy, over," Lt. Colonel Babcock answered back through the microphone as he squinted at the large screen in front of him.

Everyone in Command and Control, including General Pittman, was giving Captain Brewer only a portion of their attention. The unusual display of lights that the camera on the Predator Drone was capturing had the bulk of their attentions.

"Holloman, we have …an unidentified flying object here. I repeat. An unidentified flying object has just …risen out of the ground, over," Captain Brewer tentatively reported through the speakers of the two way radio.

All there in the Command and Control Center heard this report and was shocked by it. But no one thought to respond to it. The claim by Captain Brewer that he was seeing a UFO gave new weight to what they were seeing. Everyone inched a little closer as they strained their eyes to make out the image on the screen. As the light display grew larger and more detailed, so did the astonishment of all who were looking at it. The object appeared to be mostly transparent and was also luminescent in dozens of small spots and thin lines along its surface and within its interior. It held its position above the desert for more than a minute, and then it began to move. The sight of this transfixed everyone inside Command and Control for a short time as they watched it pass across the top of the desert. So amazed were they by this that no one thought to try and track it until after it had disappeared completely from sight. The sensor operator quickly went to work at trying to acquire a radar fix on the object. Less than a minute into this effort Captain Brewer radioed in.

"Holloman, be advised, the UFO is moving on a line for Holloman. I repeat the last known course of the UFO is on a line for your location, over."

A second after hearing this General Pittman raced over to a landline, snatched the handset off the hook and dialed for the base operator. Two seconds later he had his connection.

"This is Lieutenant General William Pittman. Connect me with your base commander, now."

All eyes were on General Pittman as he waited impatiently for a connection with his face contorted into a grim expression. Ten seconds later the connection was made.

"Listen," General Pittman spoke sharply into the phone to interrupt the greeting he was getting. "You need to put the base on yellow alert, now."

General Pittman said nothing for three seconds as he listened to the response from the base commander. At the end of this time he responded to what he heard in a gruff tone of voice.

"You don't have time for explanations. Your air space is about to be penetrated. Base security may be compromised as well. This is not an exercise, General."

To emphasize the strength of his claim, General Pittman roared his next remark into the phone.

"Yellow flag, yellow flag…"

And then he hung up.


	64. Chapter 64 The Event

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 64: The Event

The parents of the Roswell Fourteen tensed visibly at the sound of base sirens blaring and calls of yellow alert. Jeff Parker was the first to get up on his feet and demand an explanation. The airmen standing guard by the front exit were quick to point out that they were all in no danger. Jim and Phillip were not satisfied with this answer and supported Jeff by demanding more. But the airmen made no attempt to expand on their assertion. A few seconds later, half a dozen parents were on their feet.

"Okay, you need to sit down and relax," the first airmen insisted with his left hand out in front of him and with his right hand on his holster.

The parents of the Roswell Fourteen had been sitting inside this cafeteria for more than two hours. All were tired, and frustrated by the absence of any information. When General Pittman left, nearly two hours earlier, they all suspected that he had information about their children. And they all were eager to know what was happening with regards to them. The sirens had brought many of them near to the end of their patience. Diane grabbed hold to Phillip's arm out of fear for his safety. Nancy did the same with Jeff. Three seconds after this General Pittman raced into the cafeteria.

Following behind General Pittman was Ryan. And following behind him were two airmen in helmets and armed with M16's. General Pittman came to a stop half a dozen feet in front of the parents. Ryan came to a stop to the right and a step behind the General. The two airmen, with the M16's, took up positions half a dozen feet to either side of them both. The General showed little interest in the parents once he was there. Instead, he panned his attention about the room as though he was looking for something that was hard to see. The parents were slightly unnerved by this and looked about the room themselves. After five seconds of looking around the room, General Pittman turned his attention towards Ryan.

"Give me the radio," General Pittman commanded Ryan with his hand extended towards him.

Ryan disconnected the earpiece from the two way radio and surrendered the latter to the General.

"This is General Pittman," he barked into the two-way radio after pressing the transmit button, "report, over."

"No sight of it, General," Lt. Colonel Babcock's voice blared out of the two-way. "Radar screens are clean. Interceptors have been scrambled, but nothing has been detected so far, over."

"Contact me the instant anything shows up," General Pittman bellowed into the two-way with no regard for the protocols of communicating in this manner.

After concluding that the General was done speaking, five seconds later, Lt. Colonel Babcock transmitted a, "roger that, Sir, will do, over."

Shortly after the General finished his call, the sirens stopped blaring. The sudden silence surprised the parents. They quickly looked about as if they expected something new to occur. Two seconds after this, their attentions turned back onto General Pittman. All were astonished by the level of tension he was displaying, and all wanted to know why. After several seconds of silence, Jim gave voice this.

"What's going on, General?" Jim implored.

General Pittman looked to Jim briefly and then returned to ignoring him. He went back to glancing about the room, and he began to pace a little as he did this. After a few seconds more, Phillip tried his luck.

"We have a right to know what's happening with our children," Phillip exclaimed with an intense stare.

General Pittman gave Phillip a quick look and then returned to his pacing and waiting. He was completely unsympathetic to the parent's concern. His only thoughts, at this time, were for ways to salvage a day that had went terribly wrong for him. He saw no need to tell the parents any more than he already had. And he did not want to risk giving them a perception of advantage. It was his estimation that the only motivation the Roswell Fourteen had for coming to Holloman were their parents. If this was true he suspected the parents would know all soon enough. Until that moment he preferred to keep them ignorant.

After several seconds of nothing half a dozen parents filled in the silence with calls for answers. Jeff Parker led this barrage with an abrupt, "What the hell is going on?"

General Pittman continued to ignore their pleas as he waited on the arrival of the Roswell Fourteen. Shortly into this the parents went quiet. All could see that he was not going to address their inquiries. They all settled into a stare at General Pittman. They could sense something was about to happen. And nearly all concluded that there was nothing they could do but wait. Diane Evans was the one exception in this. Her desperate need to know the disposition of her children forced her to turn her attention towards the young Major who was forever present at the General's side.

"Tell us what's going on, please," Diane implored with a pained expression.

Ryan was taken by surprise by this request of him. He quickly turned his attention towards Diane and paused just long enough to gauge the depth of her worry. And then he responded to her query with a simple and direct report.

"Your children are coming."

General Pittman spun around to give Ryan an angry look. The parents noted all of this with puzzlement. For two seconds all within the cafeteria all were silent. The parents took this time to ponder what this meant. A myriad of thoughts ran through their minds. Their children were captured. Their children were injured. Their children were killed. Over the course of this time none of them had formulated a question to address these concerns. General Pittman was equally stumped for the appropriate response to Ryan's defiance of his wishes. At the end of these two seconds all were interrupted from saying anything by the sound of Lt. Colonel Babcock's voice blaring through the two-way radio in General Pittman's hand.

"General Pittman, this is C-N-C," the Colonel's voice erupted into the silence of the cafeteria with a heavy inflection of discomposure. "It's here, Sir. It just appeared from out of nowhere. It's directly over the dormitory. It's enormous."

In his excitement, Lt. Colonel Babcock had abandoned the protocols of speaking over a two-way radio. General Pittman paid no attention to this and began barking into the radio at the instant of a pause.

"What's it doing? …Babcock, what's it doing? …What's happening out there?"

"It's just sitting there," Babcock finally reported back.

There was a short pause after this and then Lt. Colonel Babcock voice came through the radio again, at near to a whisper.

"No, it's coming down. It's moving… it's enveloping…"

And then the radio went silent. Over the next minute, General Pittman made repeated attempts to reconnect with the outside. But all of them failed. He stopped trying when the lights, momentarily, flickered on and off. The General began studying the ceiling as he slowly turned about to examine all areas of it. Ryan, the parents and the guards followed his example. Thirty seconds into this, a tube of white light enveloped one of the M16 guards. It extended down from the ceiling to the floor. In appearance, it looked like a clear glass tube filled of white, luminescent, smoke. The guard instantly disappeared within this light. A second later the field of light was gone. The whole event took less than two seconds. No one within the cafeteria had time to be shocked by this single event. Within an instant of the first event, it happened again to the second M16 Guard, and then it happened again, and again, and again. In less than five seconds, all of the armed guards were gone. The parents were shocked to the point of breathless by this extraordinary event. A still came over the room as everyone who was left waited for the next event. Five seconds later, General Pittman was suddenly enveloped by a tube of white light. An instant later, he too was gone.

_Line Break_

Within the wink of an eye, General Pittman found himself standing outside. Startled by this event, he quickly scanned the area in front of him to discern where he was. He immediately recognized that he was still at Holloman. Everything around him was familiar with exception for the milky white glowing dome that was situated where the dormitory building should have been. He assumed, from the size of it, that the dormitory was encompassed by this luminescent field of energy. A second later he noted that there were more than a dozen airmen staring at the glowing mound of white light with awed expressions. He quickly organized half a dozen of them and set them to the task of trying to penetrate the dome. To his surprise, he soon learned that getting inside the dome was not the problem. Staying there was.

General Pittman, and the airmen who were helping him, discovered that they could insert items into the field with no problem. There was no barrier. Things could move in and out of it without any resistance. Once something was tossed into the glowing field it disappeared behind the blanket of white and was not seen again. It was not until they sent a person into the field, five minutes later, that they learned that everything they sent in was coming out, at that same moment, in a different location along the perimeter of the field. After the first airman went in and came out, three more were sent in. Each one walked out of the field, a second later, from different locations along the field's perimeter. By the time the base commander, Major General George Bristow, arrived on site, General Pittman had been working at getting back inside the dorm building for the past twenty minutes.

General Pittman explained to the base commander that the field of energy they were looking at was some kind of vessel. Shortly after he finished explaining why this ship came to be on his base, the vessel began rising into the air. As the vessel rose up, it became obvious to all that the bulk of the ship was beneath the ground. The area of the ship expanded as more of it passed up through earth. Airmen all around the vessel began racing away from it to escape being enveloped within the glowing white field of light. Halfway through its assent from out of the ground, the vessel became translucent. The outline of the craft could be made out by the dozens of points of light that dotted about its surface. A minute later the entire ship was hovering fifty feet above the dormitory building. Nearly one-hundred individuals, standing on the ground in a large circle about the dormitory building, stood motionless as they stared up at the partially invisible craft. Fifteen seconds later, the vessel began to slowly ascend. As it did, the lights about it began to fade. Five seconds into this, it was gone from sight. No one moved for another ten seconds. They stood still, staring at the empty sky, wondering if something else might occur. At the end of this time General Pittman began running towards the dormitory building. Within a few seconds of this everyone was following his lead.

_Line Break_

"What's happening?" Phillip cried out in a panicked voice to Ryan, a second after General Pittman disappeared.

"Your children are here," Ryan responded with an almost calm demeanor.

The parents were in a state near to shock. Each of them inched back a little out of fear that one of them might by next. Ryan too had that fear, but he suspected there was no chance of running from it. So he stood his ground and waited for the next event. Five seconds later another tube of white light appeared. This time it did not envelope anyone. It materialized before the parents in a space unoccupied by anyone. A second later the light went away and Max Evans was deposited in its place.

Max did not know how his parents would react, or what they would feel. He moved slowly towards his mother and her wide-eyed stare of astonishment. He noted that she held her ground and after three small steps she began to smile. He returned her smile with a feeling of relief. And then he said his first words.

"Hi Mom…"

An instant after he said this, Diane rushed forward and threw her arms about him. Phillip rushed forward a second behind wearing a large smile.

"Hi Dad," Max acknowledged as he held Diane in a tight hug.

Phillip was speechless at that moment. The best he could do was grin with happiness. A second later, another field of white light appeared. And when it went away, Isabel was left in its place. She, quickly, noted the happy expressions on her parent's faces and raced over into her father's arms.

"Hi Dad," Isabel acknowledged with a large smile.

The rest of the parents were looking on in amazement at this. An instant behind Isabel's embrace of her dad, Jeff and Nancy Parker noted the appearance of another field of white light near them with a shudder. An instant later the light was gone and Liz was standing there in its place.

"Lizzie," Jeff called out as he hurried over to her and snatched her up in his arms.

"Hi Dad," Liz responded with a large smile.

Nancy stood beside them, waiting her turn to hold her daughter, with tears and a grin on her face.

"Oh, my baby, I was so worried," she declared with her hands balled together and pressed against her chest.

This event happened again, and again, in rapid succession, as parents and children reunited. Jim embraced his son, Kyle. Amy did the same with Maria. Michael and Kenneth were the only two, of the Roswell Fourteen, to make an appearance and have no one to share the moment with. The hugs and kisses went on for another two minutes before settling into the explanation phase.

"Mom, Dad," Isabel addressed as she held her hand out for Kenneth.

Kenneth Burton took Isabel's hand and she promptly pulled him next to her.

"I want you to meet my husband," Isabel reported with a large smile.

Phillip and Diane were made momentarily speechless by this report. Kenneth took advantage of the moment to give his confirmation.

"I know this must be a surprise to you, but we are married," Kenneth reported with a smile.

As Kenneth was speaking this, Liz was leading her parents over to this group. As soon as they were together, she let go of her mother's hand and sidled next to Max, and took his hand.

"Mom, Dad, I want you to meet my husband, Max," Liz communicated with a smile.

Both groups of parents were stunned and a little confused by this. Liz briefly displayed a large grin on her face before continuing where she left off.

"So you see you were never going to split us up."

"I don't understand," Nancy asserted with a shake of her head.

"We are married, Mr. and Mrs. Parker," Max supported with a hint of a smile. "And we have been for a very long time. But I promise to take care of her," he finished with a definite smile.

"How long have you known this?" Phillip questioned with a confused expression.

"We just found out today," Isabel exclaimed to her dad with a defensive inflection. "We knew that we were different somehow, but we didn't know anything about our past until just a little while ago."

"We were drawn to each other," Max supported a second behind. "But we didn't know who, or what we were, or where we came from until we found our ship. That's why we ran away. We knew the only way we were going to be safe was by finding out who we were."

Phillip, Diane, Jeff and Nancy could do nothing at that moment but look at their children with amazed expression. Three seconds later Liz spoke into this silence.

"But during all of our time together we were …we are your children," Liz affirmed.

"And we love you," Isabel exclaimed vehemently.

Phillip, Diane, Jeff and Nancy were once again speechless. Near to tears and with smiles on their faces as they looked at their children anew. They had been standing there, examining each other, for nearly ten seconds when Ryan carefully walked over and gently intruded upon their meeting.

"Excuse me, but, why are you here? Why did you do this?" Ryan questioned gently.

All eyes within the group turned to him. But it was Max who responded to his inquiry.

"We have lived for many thousands of years," Max began in a polite tone. "During this time we had evolved and changed in ways, physically, that we could not retreat from. We came to a point where we discovered that we were no longer living. We simply existed. We longed for what we had lost, what we had thrown away. And then we found earth and a second chance. So we engineered human bodies for ourselves."

The rest of the parents followed their children as they moved in around this conversation.

"But why remake yourselves into children?" Ryan questioned with a curious inflection.

"The human form was alien to us both mechanically and aesthetically," Liz answered softly. "We needed to mature into these bodies so that we could acclimate to them in every way."

"To make that work, we had to strip our minds of all memory of our past lives," Kenneth added to the end of Liz's remark.

Ryan pondered this for a few seconds and then turned his attention back to the group with a new question.

"Then how did you come together if you didn't know who you were?"

"We have capabilities that only someone like ourselves can perceive," Isabel explained with a hint of a smile. "Half of us were reengineered with these capabilities turned on. Until recently, they remained dormant in our mates."

"Why the split…?" Ryan questioned with a shake of his head.

"Children who grow up together develop sibling bonds," Liz answered with an amused smile. "These bonds inhibit the potential for romantic designs towards one-another."

"Given our ability to mentally connect with each other," Max continued an instant behind. "The strength of this sibling bond can be magnified immensely. So as a precaution to maintain our previous relationships, this ability was temporarily turned off in one member of every mated pair."

Ryan took a few seconds to comprehend what he was just told. He scanned the group of families with a smile. A brief grin escaped from his mouth accompanied with a shake of his head. And then he settled back into a smile before asking his next question.

"So what happens now?" Ryan questioned inquisitively.

"We leave," Max instructed flatly. "Our parents will not speak of this to anyone and you will leave them alone to return to their lives."

"We may choose to peek in from time to time to see how they are doing," Isabel warned in a stern voice and severe stare towards Ryan. "If we do not like what we see, there will be consequences …severe consequences."

A second after Isabel spoke her warning; Max took a step toward Ryan and spoke their final word on the subject.

"Tell him that. Tell them all."

"I will," Ryan replied with an earnest look to Max.

Within a few seconds of Ryan's reply, the Roswell Fourteen turned about to their parents and began to make tearful goodbyes.

"We have to go, Mom," Max insisted to Diane.

"Bye, Dad, I love you," Isabel wept before giving her father a loving hug and a kiss.

"You guys take care of yourselves," Liz instructed her parents after giving them both large hugs.

Maria hugged her mother. Kyle hugged his father. Throughout the room children and parents were giving each other tearful farewells. Michael even stepped over to his father and instructed him to stop drinking and to take care of himself. A minute after this started, the Roswell Fourteen began stepping back from their parents and toward open spaces within the cafeteria. One by one, in rapid succession, each of them were enveloped by a tube of white light. A second later, the light and they were gone.


	65. Chapter 65 Hold the Pickles

Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.

Roswell: Reimagined

Written by

Horatio Aloysius Jaxx

Chapter 65: Hold the Pickles

Over the next seventeen months that followed the departure of the Roswell Fourteen, the city of Roswell transformed into one of the most heavily surveilled locations anywhere in the country. Despite the legitimate uses for public surveillance cameras, the secret purpose behind their existence was to keep tabs on the parents of the Roswell Fourteen. From the beginning the United States Department of Defense gave weight to the possibility that the Roswell Fourteen would return someday. All there agreed that their relationships with their earth born parents could be a draw that might bring them back. But this was given a low probability. The reason for this was the input of the scientific community. Most there argued that if they traveled to a neighboring star then they were likely looking at decades before a return. And this was based on their ship having the capability of moving at the speed of light. If they traveled to a distant star they calculated a return being at least a century away. The scientists advised that the only scenario that supported the Roswell Fourteen coming back within a few months to a few years was if they were still somewhere within the solar system. This was thought unlikely because, outside of earth, there was nothing here for them. The popular consensus among the combined communities was that if they left the planet then they likely would not be returning until the far end of the twenty-first century at the earliest. And with each passing month without a sighting, this thinking gained more weight.

Phillip and Diane Evans, and Jeff and Nancy Parker, had by this time resigned themselves to the idea that their adopted alien children were gone for good. They owed this belief more to the surveillance by, and the visits from, agents of the Defense Intelligence Agency. They had come to the conclusion that their children were never going to get anywhere near them without being seen by the United States Department of Defense. Because of this perception the two couples were in a persistent depression. Their homes and their lives felt empty without the children that they raised and loved inside them. To cope with this loss they became closer as couples and the two couples became friends.

Since the event at Holloman, the Evans and the Parkers had become accustomed to dining out together on a semi-regular basis. Their old animosities were far behind them. They felt a connection to one-another and often used this to fill the silence in their respective lives. These occasions, though more common among themselves, were not limited to just the four of them. Other parents of the Roswell Fourteen were mixing and mingling and would, from time to time, associate with the Evans, or the Parkers, or both. The whole of them had, unofficially, become a post Roswell Fourteen support group. And to the surprise of both the Evans and, most especially, the Parkers, this support group managed to produce an unexpected coupling.

The Evans had heard from the Parkers that Jim Valenti and Amy DeLuca were dating. Up until a Saturday morning, within this seventeenth month, this was simply hearsay for them. As Diane and Phillip strolled through a local supermarket, shopping for groceries, they spied Jim and Amy doing the same. They looked to be a happy couple, and maybe even a little too happy. Phillip and Diane had every expectation that their romance would dull the pain of their loss to a small degree. But as they watched them from a distance, they both felt that their demeanors were too giddy. Despite their relationship with them both, Phillip and Diane elected to leave them to their shopping and concentrate on doing their own. This was easy enough to accomplish since Jim and Amy were heavily preoccupied with one-another. This held true for another five minutes and then the pendulum swung the other way.

"Phillip! Diane! Hi," Jim greeted in an excited voice.

Amy followed suit with equal enthusiasm. They both hurried over to the Evans with wide-eyed expressions and large smiles.

"How are you doing?" Jim questioned as he extended his hand to Phillip.

Phillip took the proffered hand and was immediately surprised by the enthusiasm Jim put into the handshake. Amy gave Diane a quick hug with a large smile as they did this.

"We're okay," Phillip answered in a voice that was gloomy by comparison.

"How are you doing?" Diane questioned Amy with an inquisitive inflection.

"Oh, we're great," Amy returned quickly.

Both Phillip and Diane noted that the two of them were practically grinning at them with happiness. After a brief uncomfortable pause, for the Evans, Diane spoke up again.

"So, we heard you two are dating now."

"Oh yes," Amy, quickly, concurred.

"Well, it's not the first time for us," Jim added with a laugh. "We have a little bit of a history."

"We never went on a date before," Amy corrected with feigned admonishment.

"Yes, but I did ask," Jim verbally retaliated.

Amy looked to Phillip with a smile and then spoke to him with a glance to Diane.

"I didn't know he felt this way about me."

"Well, you both look very happy," Phillip supported pleasantly.

"Oh, we are," Amy agreed with a grin.

Once again, the Evans experienced a brief uncomfortable pause while Jim and Amy looked on with large smiles. After two seconds of this Amy took note of their discomfort and reacted to it.

"Well, we're going to leave you to your shopping," Amy declared with a large smile. "And you two have a nice day."

"Thank you," Diane acknowledge with a confused smile.

"Oh!" Jim spoke up suddenly before Amy could step away.

Phillip and Diane looked to Jim with questioning expressions. No sooner had they done this, Jim moved forward and leaned in towards the Evans. Phillip and Diane suspected that he was about to say something confidential. But they had no idea what this could be.

"Congratulations," Jim spoke barely above a whisper.

After this, Jim gave them both a large smile and a pat on the arm of Phillip. Amy was nearly grinning as she looked into the faces of the Evans. She gave Diane a brief touch on the arm and then she and Jim walked away, pushing their cart in front of them. Phillip and Diane gave them both an odd look and then continued with their shopping. They discussed the strange behavior of Jim and Amy, off and on, for another hour. At the end of this time, they finally relegated the event to a memory and dismissed it from current thinking. They attended to the remainder of their Saturday as they customarily did and fell asleep in their beds shortly after eleven o'clock at night.

Diane was first to awaken the following Sunday morning. Still groggy from her slumber, she was only faintly aware that something was unusual about that morning. It took nearly a minute for her head to clear well enough to discern that the sunlight from the window was hitting her from the wrong direction. Confused by this, she rolled onto her back and scrunched her face into a frown as she tried to figure out where she was. She promptly noted that Phillip was beside her in bed. But this confused her even more. His familiar presence conflicted with the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. As her head continued to clear, a growing awareness of where she should be was contrasting, more and more, with where she was. A few seconds later, the awareness that she was not in her room startled her fully awake. An instant behind this she sat up in the bed and took note that the window was in the wrong place and so were all the doors. The walls were the wrong color and the ceiling was the wrong height. The only thing that looked to be theirs was the furniture.

"Phillip," Diane urgently called out at a whisper as she shook him awake.

"What?" Phillip questioned as he rolled over onto his back.

"Look," Diane whispered to him with a startled inflection.

Phillip searched about him for nearly ten seconds before coming to the same realization as Diane. At the end of this time, he threw the covers off of him and jumped out of bed.

"Where are we?" Phillip questioned as he continued to study the room.

"I don't know," Diane responded as she followed her husband's lead and slid off the opposite side of the bed. "Do you smell that," she questioned two seconds later.

Phillip was, at first, too startled by the realization that they were not in their room to notice the smell of cooking food, breakfast from the smell of it. He and Diane exchanged brief looks of puzzlement before donning their slippers onto their feet and their robes onto their bodies. Five seconds later they were quietly opening the bedroom door. The instant the seal to the doorway was breached, powerful aromas of bacon, and eggs, and sausages, and pancakes, and coffee flooded into the room. Still confused, and more than a little apprehensive, Phillip and Diane quietly stepped into the middle of the hallway outside of the room. They stopped there and listened for whoever was cooking the food.

At one end of the hallway Phillip and Diane noted that there were stairs that lead down to the floor below. Instinctively, they trained their attentions in that direction. Three seconds later, a sound from behind whipped their gazes into the opposite direction. A second after doing this, Jeff Parker stepped through a doorway on the opposite side of the hall. He too was dressed in pajamas, a robe and slippers. Nancy stepped out behind him in the same state of attire.

"Where, the hell, are we," Jeff questioned Phillip, in a hushed tone, a second after seeing him staring back at him.

Phillip responded with a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. The two couples then exchanged confused looks for the whole of two seconds. And then the four of them began moving quietly towards the stairs. They paused briefly at the top and looked to each other for agreement that they should proceed down. Two seconds later they began their dissent with their eyes, ears and attentions scanning far out ahead. Halfway down the stairs they were startled to a stop when a figure raced around a corner and up the stairs towards them.

"Mom, Dad, hi," Max welcomed excitedly and with a large grin.

Max came to a stop two steps down and in front of them. Phillip, Diane, Jeff and Nancy were all excited and happy to see him.

"Maxwell," Diane acknowledged with a large smile as she brought her hands up to her cheeks.

"Come on down," Max gleefully beckoned. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Max led them all downstairs with a wave and a smile. At the foot of the steps, he gave his mother the hug she was anxiously looking forward to getting.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Parker," Max greeted quickly between hugs with his mother and then his father.

"Where's Liz?" Jeff questioned with an excited expression.

No sooner had he said this did he hear the familiar voice of his daughter heralding her approach from around the corner to the living-room.

"Are they awake?" Liz called out a second before her appearance.

Liz raced around the corner and directly into her father's arms. She hugged him for all of fifteen seconds and then she repeated the act with her mother.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Evans," she greeted as soon as she was done hugging her parents. "Look at what your son bought me," she instructed with a smile and the extension of her left hand.

With a large smile, Liz showed off a modest diamond ring situated about her ring finger.

"Its official now," Liz boasted with a bright smile.

The elder Evans and Parkers gushed over the ring one after the other. Ten seconds later Liz snatched her hand away from their examination as she excitedly change the subject.

"Come on," Liz beckoned with a wave of her hand. "There's someone you should meet."

Liz led her elders around the corner, into the living-room and directly to a bassinet that was situated on the floor near the coffee table. At first sight of it, the elder Parkers and Evans quickly rushed about it.

"Moms, Dads, I want you to meet Jeffrey Phillip Evans," Liz proudly gushed.

The elder Evans and Parkers were clearly overwhelmed by the sight of the two day old baby boy. They oohed and aahed at the sight of him. Shortly, baby Jeffrey was out of the bassinet and being passed around by his grandparents as they sat in the living-room admiring him. They had not been more than three minutes into this when a very pregnant Isabel rushed through the back entrance of the house, through the kitchen, across the dining room into the living-room dragging Kenneth Burton behind her, by the hand.

"Are they awake yet?" Isabel queried as she raced into the room.

Diane and Phillip instantly got up on their feet at the sound of her voice. They looked upon her with a mixture of surprised and excited expressions.

"Oh my, you too…" Diane commented with a look of surprise.

Isabel grinned at this as she rushed forward and with open arms. She gave her parents large hugs before responding to her mother's remark.

"In another month, Li'l Diane Evelyn Burton will be officially a person," Isabel announced with a large smile.

Just then, Michael and Maria pushed open the front door and stepped through the entrance. Maria was just inside of seven months pregnant and Michael was carrying their first child in a baby harness.

"Hi," Maria enthusiastically announced to all as she walked into the living-room.

"Oh no, two babies," Nancy questioned with astonishment?

Nancy was seated on the sofa with baby Jeffrey in her arms.

"Some of us are more fertile than others," Maria jokingly criticized a second before giving the elder Jeffrey a hug.

"Oh please, she was pregnant the day we left," Liz rebuked an instant later.

"Michael!" Diane admonished with a word.

"I'm sorry Mrs. E," Michael apologized with a grin. "We kinda got carried away back then."

There were smiles and laughter throughout the room. The families and friends doted on the two babies in-between greets and hugs.

"So where are we?" Jeff questioned to no one in particular.

"We're in Canada, Dad," Liz answered with a smile.

"But I thought you were leaving?" Phillip questioned with a puzzled look.

"The country, not the planet, Dad," Isabel playfully corrected. "Where else in the universe am I going to go to get a descent cheeseburger?"

All within the room, with the exception of the babies, erupted into laugher behind this remark. Two seconds into this, Phillip responded to his daughter's query with one of his own.

"Hold the pickles?" Phillip asked with a smile.

"Yeah, Dad," Isabel blushed as she gave her father a nudge with her shoulder. "Hold the pickles."

"Speaking of food…," Maria loudly announced.

"Don't even go there," Liz quickly cut Maria off with this retort.

"Feed me," Maria directed with an expectant look.

"I know you ate before you left the house," Liz scolded with a point towards Maria.

"Feed me," Maria insisted in a stern tone.

"Come on into the dining room," Liz encouraged the elder Parkers and Evans with a wave of her hand. "Breakfast is getting cold."

Everyone got to their feet that were not already so situated and began following Liz towards the dining room.

"Feed me," Maria insisted again, loudly.

"I'm not feeding you, Maria," Liz laughingly countered.

"Feed me!"

THE END


End file.
